


feels so good but hurts so bad (troublemaker)

by transit (dollyeo)



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Anal Fingering, Blowjobs, Coming Untouched, Double Penetration, Emotional Constipation, Footjobs, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Implied 95z, Implied 97z, Implied Mpreg, Intercruxal sex, Knotting, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Polyamory, Riding, Rimming, Rutting, Sex Toys, Slow Burn, handjobs, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-15
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-05-23 15:51:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 50,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14937297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dollyeo/pseuds/transit
Summary: It starts with the nesting.





	1. jihoon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [peachpitch (snugcheol)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/snugcheol/gifts).



It starts with the nesting.

Jihoon comes home to two of his roommates playing video games in the living room. They're surrounded by blankets and pillows from the supply closet, the kind they only bring out for guests too drunk to go home or for other occasions that would normally call for gross body fluids and at least three loads of laundry. That, in itself, should have been telling enough to Jihoon, but he’s been pulling back-to-back all-nighters at work and exhaustion is making him slower than usual.

As it is, he just watches Wonwoo completely wipe Soonyoung’s ass in Super Smash Bros with Kirby, and then get an armful of Soonyoung trying to strangle him like the sore loser he is. They look completely unbothered by the faint scent of burning sugar and mint leaves coming from the other end of the apartment, like someone’s been experimenting with cupcakes and barely managing to burn the kitchen down all over again.

No fire, though, so Jihoon thinks they’re safe from any visits from nearby firemen. He thinks.

“Why does it look even messier than usual?” He asks, wrinkling his nose as he shoves clothes off of the couch. He brings up what looks like one of Wonwoo’s jackets to sniff at it, but it still smells like laundry detergent and fabric softener instead of sweat and aftershave. “Are we spring cleaning in the middle of summer?”

“Don’t let Junhui hear you say that,” says Wonwoo. He’s trying to peel Soonyoung’s fingers off of him, but either Soonyoung’s getting a lot stronger or Wonwoo’s just not putting enough effort into it so he isn’t too successful in his attempts. Jihoon doesn’t wanna _know_. “He’s gonna start sulking if you make fun of him.”

“ _Junhui_?” Jihoon repeats, incredulously. Out of all his roommates, it’s Soonyoung that’s prone to erratic, spontaneous decisions, and he wouldn’t put it past Soonyoung to put up an elaborate and impromptu pillow fort in the living room. Junhui, on the other hand, would probably go along with whatever Soonyoung wants, but his desire to keep the peace intact and to keep up the pretense of looking like a responsible adult in case any of their parents or siblings come over is greater than his eagerness to please Soonyoung.

“Yeah,” Wonwoo grunts out, pushing his hips up as he tries to knock Soonyoung over and off of him. It doesn’t work, and Soonyoung just clings to him like a leech digging his elbow into Wonwoo’s jugular. “He’s raided my closet and Soonyoung’s already. I think he’s going through yours this time.”

“That’s really not as helpful as you think it sounds.”

Wonwoo’s spared from giving Jihoon an answer when Junhui emerges from Wonwoo and Jihoon’s shared room, an armful of clothes piled under his chin. “Oh, good, you’re here,” says Junhui, face flushed and sweating just a little. “Can I borrow a few things from your underwear drawer?”

“I don’t think my socks would fit you,” says Jihoon.

“I didn’t mean your socks.”

“I don’t think he has anything bigger than a size S for you, Junnie,” says Soonyoung, like the asshole he is.

“I’m not gonna _wear_ it,” Junhui huffs. “I’m just gonna— do stuff with it.”

“Stuff?” Jihoon repeats. “Are you planning on destroying all of my underwear, Wen Junhui?”

“I still think you should wear those cartoon print shorts I got you for your birthday,” says Junhui, but the humor in it sounds weak even to Jihoon’s ears, almost like he’s distracted.

Jihoon blinks at Junhui’s pink cheeks, the color spreading from his face and to his neck. His collarbones. Down. Then he looks at how Wonwoo’s eyes are suddenly glazing over behind his crooked glasses, and then at Soonyoung sitting up and licking his lips expectantly. The smell’s growing stronger now, and it’s making Jihoon’s mouth water involuntarily. His stomach churns. His mind is buzzing. It’s getting hard to breathe.

 _Oh_ , he thinks, _so that’s why_.

With all of their eyes on him, Junhui seems to look like he’s torn between preening under the attention or being embarrassed; he tips his chin up, squaring his shoulders, but the illusion of cockiness passes when he almost dislodges the clothes he’s carting around.

“I’ll— uh— just take this to my room,” says Junhui, eyes darting away from them.

“I’ll help you,” Soonyoung chirps, and he pushes himself off of Wonwoo and scrambles over to attach himself to Junhui’s broad back instead, leaving an unamused Wonwoo to narrow his eyes at his retreating form and sigh at the ceiling instead.

“Is he—” Jihoon starts, then stops, unsure of how to continue.

Thankfully, his roommates spare him the humiliation of getting the words out. “Yep,” Wonwoo and Soonyoung chorus in varying degrees of enthusiasm, Soonyoung completely overjoyed, Wonwoo not so much. Soonyoung hip checks him on his way past and waggles his eyebrows at Jihoon, promising filth and everything Jihoon can’t have, and Jihoon just stares back at him with dead eyes.

Suddenly, Jihoon wishes he hadn’t passed up Seungcheol’s offer to go get dinner before heading home. Maybe he could still escape while he has the chance, and then he could hole up in his spare room for the next few days while Junhui’s in heat and Soonyoung’s probably (definitely) helping him through it.

“Don’t even think about abandoning me to the wolves,” says Wonwoo. He chucks a throwpillow at Jihoon, still sulking. “I’ve had to deal with Soonyoung bouncing around and talking about all the things he’s planning on doing to Junhui _this time_.”

“Please don’t tell me he's been ordering sex toys online again.”

“He already used my card without asking first,” says Wonwoo. “Asshole.”

JIhoon’s pretty sure that the graphic details Soonyoung’s given Wonwoo about whatever vibrator or costume he’s gotten _this time_ is equal parts due compensation and a mode of torture for Wonwoo, but Jihoon’s always believed in ignorance being bliss, so he opts to ignore Wonwoo and make his way to the kitchen to look for something to fill his stomach. It’s bad enough that he has to hear Junhui pant and groan through the thin walls when he’s in heat, or that he has to suffer through Soonyoung’s dirty talk the whole time. It’s even worse now that he’s hyperaware of everything they do around him, making his heart clench the whole time, now that he’s finally admitted to himself that maybe— just maybe— it’s not normal to be too conscious around them when he’s barely given a shit in all the time they’ve been friends.

Fucking Wonwoo rubbing off on him. It’s all his fault Jihoon’s even catching feelings, but then again, maybe it’s just Stockholm Syndrome. Maybe it’ll pass.

He really should have listened to Seungcheol’s warnings when he’d signed the lease a year ago. “Two omegas and two alphas in an a 2LDK?” Seungcheol had said over makgeolli and hefty servings of pajeon and fried chicken when Jihoon had first talked to him about his tentative plans. “Good luck stocking up on birth control, Jihoonie.”

“I’m not gonna sleep with any of them,” Jihoon had protested, and Seungcheol just snorted like he didn’t believe him at all. “Really, I’m not!”

A year later, and he’s already regretting that decision. He hears Wonwoo starting up a new game in the living room, turning the volume up as Soonyoung starts whining at Junhui to lock the door behind him, and there’s a giggle and the sound of the lock clicking before that part of the apartment goes quiet. He swallows the lump that’s formed in his throat, fingers clenched around the handle of the fridge. Maybe he should bring home his noise-cancelling headphones, or maybe he can bribe Wonwoo out of the apartment with a blowjob. Anything to get the edge off, really. He doesn’t know what he’s still doing here, trying not to listen to his roommates having sex when he’s in kinda— sorta— in love with them.

“You’re so fucked,” he tells himself, pressing his forehead against the refrigerator. He thinks he can hear a broken moan a few feet away, but it’s gone as quickly as he senses it. Maybe they’re kissing now. Jihoon bites the inside of his cheek and takes a deep, shuddering breath, opening the fridge and taking out a bottle of soju this time.

He makes his way back to the living room with two glasses and takes a seat beside Wonwoo on the floor. Jihoon pours them both shots, and they down it in one go, the alcohol bitter, heating up their throats. Wonwoo passes him the other controller without another word, and Jihoon takes it, like he always does.

“Loser has to check in on them tomorrow morning with food and water,” says Wonwoo, pouring more soju for them this time without prompting.

“Call,” says Jihoon, clinking their shot glasses together, and he takes another fortifying shot, already bracing himself for the worst.

It’s gonna be a long week ahead for all of them, he can already tell. He can’t wait for it to end soon enough.


	2. junhui

Being in heat’s always strange.

It’s not that Junhui’s not used to it— he’s had to, ever since he’d presented in junior year of high school, smack dab in the middle of summer break and nursing more than a passing fever in his heat-drunk state.

He’d practically ghosted his friends the entire time, spending hours with his fingers around his cock and rutting against the sheets as he panted out imaginary names of equally nonexistent lovers. He didn’t even need to watch porn on his laptop to get himself off faster with how sensitive he was, eager to get the edge off with his eyes closed and his teeth clenching around his pillowcase. And then, when he thought he was all fucked out and his skin chafed from the dried come and slick between his thighs, the heat in his stomach welled up again and sunk its claws under his skin, coaxing him back to hardness.

He’d lasted nearly a week and a half like that, floating in and out of consciousness and so exhausted by the end of it that he just wanted to sleep the last of his vacation away. His heats have gotten shorter over time, sometimes lasting a week, others even less than that, but it’s mostly a pain to deal with by the third day, hormones and lust abating to a dull ache between his legs. If he could just ignore it and will it away like Jihoon seems to manage so quickly after the first day of his ruts, Junhui would happily ensconce himself in a burrito blanket and just watch Youtube videos all day. If only.

He wonders if Soonyoung’s ever found his own heats equally annoying, but if he does, he’s never been vocal about it. More often than not, Soonyoung seems to treat it with indifference at worst, enthusiasm at best, the marks on his calendar little more than reminders to file for paid leaves and bully his roommates into subservience. “It’s the only way he’ll ever go on vacation without booking a plane ticket for himself,” is all Minghao has to say about it, shaking his head like the pot calling the kettle black. “He’s a workaholic.”

He opens his mouth to ask Soonyoung if he’s ever thought of heats as an inconvenience, but all he manages to get out of his throat is a guttural moan when Soonyoung’s finger rubs against his rim. “Again?” He whimpers, fingers tangled around the back of Soonyoung’s head, digging into his scalp. “Didn’t you just fuck me a few minutes ago?”

“I gotta get the come out, Junnie, you know that fake stuff’s gross when you leave it in for too long,” says Soonyoung, innocent pout belying the squelching noise of his fingers pressing into Junhui’s fucked open hole and scraping slick and fake semen from Soonyoung’s latest haul from the Internet out—this time, it’s one of those imitation knots that spurt out bucketloads of artificial come that Soonyoung’s been dying to test out. From the way Junhui had seen stars in the past half hour, they’re probably gonna keep it in their drawer for repeated use, unless they actually get their hands on a real one. “Raise your hips a little, okay? I can’t reach that far.”

Junhui’s thighs are shaking, but he spreads his legs wider just a bit more, fucking back onto Soonyoung’s fingers to oblige him. He can feel some of the come pool out of his hole and onto the sheets, and Soonyoung hums appreciatively, eyes darkening at the sight. Junhui thinks, not for the first time, that maybe he’s lucky Soonyoung’s not an alpha out to eat him up; he’ll eat him out again and again, but there’s no danger in it, no worry of leaving a mating mark. They’re fine.

It doesn’t stop Soonyoung from trying to mark him up when they’re together, though. He’s been getting bad habits from Wonwoo, Junhui guesses; Wonwoo’s always so quick to bite, like it’s second nature for him to try to get under Soonyoung’s skin even with something as serious as a mating mark. It’s why they keep arguing so much, Junhui thinks. It’s too much, and never enough.

He can smell Wonwoo’s scent nearby, wafting from the makeshift nest of clothes Junhui had surrounded them with before Soonyoung had peeled their clothes off. His, and Jihoon’s, circling them both in a hazy jumble that’s making Junhui’s stomach twist and knot. A bit of slick gushes out of him again, mixing with come. Ah. There it is again. That same want. The longing.

“Very sexy,” says Soonyoung, eyes scrunching up. He bends to nose at the inside of Junhui’s thighs, peppering tiny kisses and small, lingering nips at his skin, following the trail with his tongue. “You’re so hot, Junnie.”

“That’s the point of a heat,” Junhui jokes, even as his muscles clench and tremble under Soonyoung’s mouth. He inhales sharply when Soonyoung starts teasing his balls with kittenish licks, plush lips trying to fit whatever parts of Junhui he can get into his small mouth. “Ahh—Soonyoung-ah—“

“Maybe you’d like someone else’s fingers in you, huh?” Soonyoung asks, voice muffled. He licks a fat stripe up Junhui’s length before pursing his lips against the head of Junhui’s cock. “Wonwoo’s got bigger hands, you know. He could work you open so well.”

Junhui takes a sharp breath, rocking back against Soonyoung’s mouth. “Nngghh.”

“Or maybe you want his cock instead?” Soonyoung continues, like he’s talking about the weather or a project instead of feeding fantasies into Junhui’s heat-addled brain. “Want a real alpha’s knot in you instead of a toy next time? I can blow you while you’re getting fucked silly, if you want,” Soonyoung opens his mouth wider to suck Junhui’s cock, the slightest scrape of his teeth making Junhui’s toes curl. “Or you can fuck me too.”

Just the memory of Soonyoung, hot and wet and tight around his dick, makes Junhui’s cock throb, and Soonyoung would probably be smirking if he weren’t so occupied with sucking Junhui off. Soonyoung loves getting fucked even more than Junhui does, with or without the excuse of a heat, and he’s always eager to climb on top of Junhui and ride him until they’re both a sloppy, tangled mess, falling into each other’s arms and clinging together without being knotted together.

That’s the great part about sleeping with another omega, Soonyoung always says. Short refractory periods, keen obsession with cuddling during a good fuck, and no danger of getting knocked up or stretched out from the pain of a knot. It’s just heat and closeness, soft and pliant. It’s easy.

It doesn’t stop them from wanting it, though—Junhui tries not to think about it, but he can feel himself clench at the thought. He’s only had two inside him so far, barring Soonyoung’s experimental forays. Once, it was Wonwoo. The other—

He lets out a broken sob as Soonyoung sucks harder, head bobbing up and down as he tries to take in as much of Junhui as he can get. “Maybe we can invite Jihoonie too, get him to fuck you so well, even better than when you took my fingers,” Soonyoung mumbles, looking up at Junhui with hooded eyes. “I think he’ll let you fuck him too, if you asked nicely. How about it, Junhui?”

Jihoon’s scent clogs his nose, suffocating now; he bites the inside of his cheek so hard it feels like he’s going to bleed. He lets his hands grip the top of Soonyoung’s head, guiding his movement as he sucks him off to completion. “Fuck— _Jihoon_ —”

“Want you,” Soonyoung mumbles, voice pitched low in a poor imitation of Jihoon’s voice, “want your cock in me so bad, Junnie, I need it, please, please, _please_ —”

Junhui closes his eyes, and he can feel the mattress creak as Soonyoung— _Jihoon_ — ruts and rolls his hips against the sheets. It’s the heat of his mouth and the image of Jihoon opening up for him, gasping and rocking against him in a frenzied, frantic mess that makes Junhui come undone, the tight knot in his belly uncoiling as he comes with a sharp, blinding gasp, seeing white behind his eyelids. Strange. It’s so strange. Being in heat is making him hungry for something else, something more.

He opens his eyes to see Soonyoung rubbing his mouth with the back of his hand, expressionless, but he swallows Junhui’s come with a wink when he notices Junhui’s watching. “Thanks for the food,” he chirps, sidling up against Junhui’s side and burrowing into the gap between their bodies. “All that fruit you’ve been eating lately makes you taste good.”

Junhui reaches out to thumb at a spot Soonyoung’s missed in the corner of his mouth, and Soonyoung wrinkles his nose but turns his head to suck at his thumb, like he’s eager for more.

“God,” Junhui groans. “You’re gonna kill me, Kwon Soonyoung.”

“Obviously, I’m not doing a great job if you’re still coherent,” says Soonyoung. He presses a kiss to Junhui’s jaw, satisfied. “I’m not complaining, though. We can work on it some more later.”

“Who’s the one in heat again? You or me?”

“Doesn’t matter, I still win,” Soonyoung huffs, closing his eyes. “You’re the most gorgeous person I’ve ever slept with, you know?”

Junhui’s arm snakes around to curl up against his waist, and he waits a moment for their breathing to even out before he whispers, “What about Wonwoo?”

Soonyoung doesn’t say anything. He’s already asleep. Junhui sighs and wonders what it is he feels, if not guilt. It must be indigestion, or the aftermath of the heat.

It takes a long while before he can even stop thinking about it.


	3. soonyoung

The entire apartment is silent when Soonyoung wakes up.

Bleary-eyed and half-asleep, he stares at the tiny marks scattered across Junhui’s neck, dark discolorations against his skin; on any other day, they could pass it off as insect bites, but Soonyoung’s stomach stirs and clenches as he strokes at the bites he’d left with proprietary fingers.

Junhui doesn’t wake up, too exhausted from the first day of his heat, and it’s the small sniffle he makes that stops Soonyoung’s fingers from wandering lower. He pushes the hair out of Junhui’s eyes, clearing his face, and bites the inside of his cheek as he rubs at Junhui’s cheek. It’s best to let him sleep before the heat claims him longer, Soonyoung thinks. When he wakes up, there won’t be time for rest until a long while later.

He sits up, careful not to dislodge Junhui’s makeshift nest of clothes, pillows and blankets. There’s a few dirty clothes from Wonwoo or Jihoon’s laundry hamper in it, and it’s been bothering Soonyoung since yesterday, the scent strong and suffocating even through the smell of sex and sweat, but it makes Junhui happy to rub his face and rut against them without shame.

Whatever, though. Junhui’s just like that. Soonyoung tries not to be _too_ territorial, but the small, hidden part of him that’s always thought he’d present as anything _but_ an omega feels restless, antsy whenever he smells other people on his sheets in the middle of fucking and getting fucked by a double-ended dildo.

Especially when it smells like Wonwoo.

The reminder of it makes him blanch, stomach rolling in hunger. It’s bad enough their rooms are separated by a poor excuse of a wall, but Wonwoo’s never made it a secret how he feels about Soonyoung sleeping with someone Wonwoo used to help occasionally with his heats, back before they’d even started living together. It used to make the morning after extremely awkward for everyone involved, but Soonyoung’s learned, over time, how to roll with the punches and just ignore Wonwoo’s pointed stares and pinched expressions every time he smelled them on each other.

Wonwoo’s kinda uptight like that.

He tugs on one of the bigger jackets near his pillow and a pair of shorts that look like Jihoon’s. Grimacing, he tugs the garter lower, already regretting not crawling to the bathroom or getting an emergency pack of wet wipes to clean up when he feels the gross, sticky residue of Junhui’s come cling to the fabric. He’s gonna have to either rinse it more than once or completely throw it in the trash—as much as Soonyoung likes to poke fun at Jihoon’s eternal hard-on for Junhui, he’s not _that_ much of an asshole.

Maybe it _would_ get Jihoon to be a little more proactive when provoked, but Soonyoung doesn’t wanna test his luck just yet. He’s planning on staying alive as much as possible, thanks. Who else would take care of Junhui and make sure he’s well-fed and fucked constantly? Wonwoo doesn’t know how to _not_ burn fried rice. Jihoon doesn’t even know how to turn on the _stove_.

Placing a quick peck to Junhui’s brow, he gingerly pushes himself off the bed and heads out the room in search of food. There’s a pitcher of water and a couple disposable cups by the door that Soonyoung makes a mental note to put on the bedside table later, but he leaves the door slightly ajar for now, letting out a bit of the smell and heat to air out the room a little. The bedroom across is still locked, Wonwoo and Jihoon probably dead to the world after playing games all night or downing a sleeping pill, so it shouldn’t be too much of a danger. They know better than to come any closer.

It’s a good thing they’re living with two of the most reclusive homebodies in their circle. If they lived with Chan or Minghao, those two would just complain all the time or kick them out and make them pay for a hotel room altogether. Jihoon and Wonwoo aren’t _bad_ roommates, not exactly, even if they’re not the cleanest or most responsible adults ever. They’re pretty chill for the most part, less aggressive than Soonyoung can get on a bad day. Jihoon’s been living with them for a little over a year, so Soonyoung can’t really tell his tolerance level with a hundred percent confidence, but Soonyoung’s been stuck with Wonwoo since elementary school and nothing’s happened so far, proving that alphas and omegas really _can_ live around each other without wanting to jump each other’s bones. None of them have lost their control, not yet, and Soonyoung’s planning on keeping things that way for a while.

At least, until Jihoon finally snaps and lets Junhui have his way with him so they can _finally_ stop eye-fucking when they think no one’s looking. Soonyoung wants to barf.

He’s halfway through heating up a few side dishes and frying up vegetable omelets when Wonwoo comes into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes under his crooked glasses. “Did you lock the door behind you?” Soonyoung asks, narrowing his eyes at Wonwoo, and Wonwoo blinks owlishly at him and nods half a beat later, still too sleepy for coherence. “What time did you guys go to bed?”

“Three,” says Wonwoo, yawning. He takes a seat on one of the wooden stools, putting his arms on the counter and resting his cheek against it. “Couldn’t sleep. You’re too loud.”

Feeling his face heat up, Soonyoung turns back to concentrate on the pan. “Yeah, well. I told you we should start soundproofing our walls.”

“Too expensive,” Wonwoo grunts out. “I should get you a ball gag for your birthday.”

“Just so you know, I’m taking that as permission to use your card again next time,” Soonyoung informs him, and Wonwoo scoffs but doesn’t say no.

They’re silent for a while, Soonyoung finishing up the rest of the meal and Wonwoo still using his arms as a makeshift pillow for his head. Soonyoung almost thinks he’s fallen back asleep, but when he passes him to get a bowl from one of the drawers, Wonwoo’s hands twitch and he reaches out to grasp the back of Soonyoung’s stolen jacket with an alertness that surprises Soonyoung.

“Isn’t this mine?” Wonwoo asks, voice rough as he drags Soonyoung closer.

Soonyoung rolls his eyes, flicking his forehead to cover up his own surprise. “I didn’t raid your laundry. Junhui did, remember?”

“Why are you wearing it, then?”

“It was the closest thing I could find, drama queen. Besides, I thought you hated seeing me go around half-naked?”

“Didn’t say I hated it,” Wonwoo mutters, as surly as a moody kid. Soonyoung flicks him on the forehead again for good measure, relishing in his hiss of pain. “What was that for?”

“For lying,” says Soonyoung. “And let go, I need to finish this before the food gets cold.”

“Are you gonna climb on his lap and spoonfeed him? You’re gonna end up spilling the soup on his dick and then we’d have to take Junhui to the ER.”

“You’re just jealous I’m getting dicked down by Jun.”

Wonwoo grunts and lets him go, looking irritated; he sniffs at the air and shoves Soonyoung away. “You reek,” says Wonwoo, scrunching his nose up. “Doesn’t smell right.”

“That’s what happens when you have sex with someone, Wonwoo,” says Soonyoung, loftily. “It’s a natural reaction of the human body.”

“Don’t talk to me like I’m five.”

“Stop acting like you’re five, then maybe I’ll consider it.”

Wonwoo rolls his eyes and sighs, sounding so put out and long-suffering Soonyoung just kinda wants to hit him upside the head, but then he remembers he smells like an unmated omega in heat with Junhui’s come inside him, so he doesn’t say anything. He can feel Wonwoo’s eyes drilling into his back, though, watching him bustle around the kitchen trying to find the decent plates and their only serviceable tray. Soonyoung doesn’t cook often, much less make it a habit to serve his roommates hand and foot, but part of him still wants to take care of other people and make sure they’re comfortable and happy, tiny idiosyncrasies of their genetic makeup like Junhui’s tendencies to nest or Wonwoo’s hypersensitive sense of smell. It’s as much a thank you to Junhui’s dick game as it is a biological compulsion, really.

He’s not completely heartless, though; he sets aside food for Jihoon and Wonwoo on the table, trying not to feel embarrassed at the long, lingering look Wonwoo gives him.

“Make sure Jihoonie eats something for breakfast,” Soonyoung reminds him, carrying the tray piled with rice and side dishes. “I don’t want him scratching at the door whining about being hungry.”

“As if Jihoon even whines,” says Wonwoo.

“You’re right,” says Soonyoung, lips quirking up in a small smile. “That’s just you.”

Wonwoo snorts, but he touches Soonyoung’s elbow on his way back to his room. He gives Soonyoung an unreadable look before he tucks his face against the crook of Soonyoung’s neck and shoulder, breathing him in. Even if he claims he hates it, even if he keeps saying Soonyoung’s sweaty and gross after sex, he’s always, always like this. He noses at Soonyoung’s throat, making huffing noises under his breath, almost like he’s scenting him. Soonyoung tries not to shiver under his touch, stiffening at the motion, and it feels like eternity before Wonwoo pulls away, when in reality it mustn’t have been more than a minute at most.

“Go take care of him,” says Wonwoo, with a low, pointed tone and a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

It’s a command from an alpha Soonyoung has no choice but to follow.


	4. wonwoo

Hearing the bedroom door click shut behind Soonyoung is an exercise in self-flagellation.

Wonwoo knows, half an hour from now, that he’ll smell the cloying, heady scent of Junhui’s heat mixing with Soonyoung’s lust-drunk smell. He’s been biting the inside of his cheek while feigning sleepiness the entire time Soonyoung had been in the kitchen with him, and seeing Soonyoung’s nape, absent of a mark even with his hair tousled and his clothes rumpled, had set him on edge, discomfited.

The longing to crowd around him, to back him up against the counter and bite down his neck— it’s never really gone away.

He pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to focus. Logically, Wonwoo knows he should have been prepared for it. When Junhui had sat him down a couple of days ago and told him, very carefully, that he was due for his heat soon, Wonwoo should have steeled himself for the inevitable. He’d let Junhui into his room without another word, looking the other way as Junhui lingered by Jihoon’s bed and inhaled the scent of his comforter with a longing that made Wonwoo’s heart ache. He’s had practice with this song and dance that it’s a wonder he still stumbles.

It’s not easy, living without a beta in an apartment full of people with mixed orientations. A beta would have been more stabilizing, balancing each of their whims and eccentricities out, but it already feels too cramped with four people in the same space so he and Soonyoung hadn’t really put their energy into pursuing that route. Contrary to popular belief, talking Jihoon into living with them had been Wonwoo’s idea; alphas could be territorial about their spaces, but he and Jihoon had a mutual understanding, an arrangement of sorts. It’s not hard to live with him at all.

It’s Soonyoung that gets to Wonwoo’s nerves most of the time, testing him like he’s trying to push Wonwoo’s buttons on purpose. There’s days when Soonyoung’s especially over the top about it, but he must have been too tired this morning to flaunt and brag about Junhui; that, or he’s finally learning to become more tactful, more sensitive around him, but Wonwoo highly doubts that.

It’s a little easier, at a distance, to forget how easy it had been to sink into the baser side of his instincts, but knowing Soonyoung’s going to be wrapped up around Junhui in under an hour hasn’t really helped Wonwoo’s heartbeat calm down. He’s been living with Soonyoung and Junhui for even longer than Jihoon, but it doesn’t get easier to let the primal part of himself settle. Soonyoung always keeps saying he’s too soft for an alpha, too passive, but he doesn’t really know what self-preservation feels like, always ready and willing to fling himself headfirst into crazy situations without thought.

Like, say, actively helping another omega out during his heat cycles, even when he’s living with a couple of alphas in the same apartment. Wonwoo doesn’t know if Soonyoung’s an idiot or a sadist, or if he just trusts them so much it’s unthinkable for him that anything bad will happen.

Wonwoo, honestly, just wants to sink into a tub of ice and never get out ever again if it means he won’t have to listen to Soonyoung fuck or get fucked by Junhui again and again.

It’s not like mated omega pairs are unheard of, but it’s rare— outside of porn and indie films, Wonwoo hasn’t really met a lot of omega-omega couples at work or through friends, and even the few he _does_ know still have a free pass when it comes to that time of the year. Bio classes and health lessons at school have taught him that every individual is different, and no stereotype applies across all assignations, but hormonal wants and needs during heat or rut are pretty standard, basic even. That biological ticking clock’s as clinical and inane an explanation for an omega’s desire for a knot during heat, when otherwise they could live without it on a normal day; it’s just hormones, that’s all.

Or, at least, that’s how he’s always tried to rationalize it. The first time he’d helped Junhui out with his heat in Soonyoung’s absence, Junhui had just given him a strange look and a muted smile before telling him it was okay, he understood, he wasn’t going to tell Soonyoung anything, and Wonwoo had wanted to ask him what he’d meant by that but Junhui had just climbed over his lap and started kissing him that it got harder to pay attention after that.

Aside from Junhui, though, Wonwoo hasn’t been sexually intimate with any other omega, so he doesn’t really have much experience when it comes to dealing with heats. To some extent, he kind of knows what Soonyoung’s like when he’s in heat, but he’s never seen him clench around his cock and whine for more the way Junhui has, greedy and dragging him closer before swallowing him whole. It’s still strange to think about it, even now, but Soonyoung doesn’t like talking about what goes on during _his_ heats, his silence a startling contrast to his eagerness to gush about Junhui’s.

It’s not hard to be fond of Junhui, though; Junhui’s the type that wants to be taken care of, not really caring about much other than being cocooned in warm blankets, warm hands, even warmer skin, using sweet words and sweeter cow eyes to build his nest with their possessions and wheedle them into catering to his wants, and Soonyoung’s so quick to give in, minus the barbed words and long-suffering huffs Jihoon tries to hide behind. Jihoon thinks that Soonyoung shouldn’t coddle him so much, but Wonwoo privately thinks that Soonyoung must be doing something right if he’s the one in bed with Junhui every single time. It’s a far cry from how Wonwoo and the rest of their friends had hedged bets on Soonyoung’s chances when he’d first met Junhui.

After all, what were the chances of it happening? It’s _Soonyoung_ , baby-faced, all talk and no action, no experience, thirsty for pretty faces and never really doing anything about it. Even now, Soonyoung still sulks every time one of their friends from high school jokes about his plans of saving himself for one of his idol boy groups making him picky, and they’re not wrong, not exactly. Soonyoung’s always gotten it in his head that he’ll either mate or marry up, or no one at all.

“I’m not asking for much. I need to find someone tall, handsome, and great with kids,” he’d told Wonwoo, loftily, back when he was still trying to convince Junhui to sleep with him. “I’m a pretty simple guy.”

“But Junhui’s an omega,” Wonwoo pointed out, staring at the strips of pork belly sizzling on the grill in front of him. “He wouldn’t be physically capable of giving you kids.”

“We can always adopt or get a sperm donor,” said Soonyoung, waving his worries away with a flutter of his hand. It just made Wonwoo bite his lip, hard. “I’m sure we’ll work around it.”

“You’ve just met the guy and yet you’re already planning your future with him.”

“For a romantic, you’re a pretty cynical guy,” said Soonyoung. “Haven’t you ever found someone you just clicked with and wanted to spend the rest of your life with, Wonwoo?”

He’d felt small, unnerved, at the accusing finger Soonyoung pointed at him, then. His narrow-eyed stare made Wonwoo’s skin feel cold, prickly. He looked away.

“Why don’t you just find an alpha instead? Wouldn’t that be easier?”

“Who’d I even mate with? You?” Soonyoung asked, making a face. Wonwoo could feel his stomach churn and his breath catch in his throat. “Omegas are easier to be with than alphas, you know.”

 _No, I don’t know_ , Wonwoo had mulishly thought, but he’d settled for chewing on a lettuce leaf instead as Soonyoung waxed poetic about the benefits of having an omega for a mate. Since they were in middle school, Soonyoung had wanted so badly to be an alpha, puffing his chest out whenever he got picked as a leader or captain for anything, but when the seasons had gone by and he’d shown little to no signs of presenting, he’d slowly resigned himself to becoming a beta, laughing off all the teasing by saying he’d rather not be bothered by things like ill-timed ruts and bouts of unexplainable aggression.

And then Wonwoo had presented, and Soonyoung had lost all interest in it completely afterwards, shrugging and saying nothing other than “cool” before knocking their shoulders together when they played Street Fighter in Wonwoo’s room, completely impervious to how Wonwoo froze up and felt awkward and gangly in his own skin.

He’s always sort of had that effect on him.

Wonwoo rubs his face in frustration, and drags the meal Soonyoung had prepared closer to him for him to scarf down. Soonyoung doesn’t really cook a lot, categorically refusing to do it for all of them on a daily basis, but he makes exceptions for days when one of them is sick, in a rut or heat, or when he’s just trying to procrastinate on something. He’s not skilled with a lot of things, but fried rice is fried rice, and it’s hard to go wrong with it unless you’re Wonwoo or Jihoon and prone to forgetting about whatever’s on the stove until it’s burning.

Wonwoo finishes the bowl of fried rice, picks apart at the omelet and the other side dishes, even gobbles up the dried anchovies even when he can’t stand fish, but it’s not enough. The hunger’s still simmering in his stomach, unappeased. He looks at Jihoon’s share, contemplating eating it, too.

He won’t miss it, right? He thinks to himself, dragging one of the side dishes closer to his tray. Just one more bite, that’s all he wants, really. One more bite. What Jihoon doesn’t know won’t hurt him, right?

Jihoon’s probably still asleep by now, buried under Wonwoo’s blankets in an exhausted heap; he’d been too rough with him last night, fingers digging into his hip so hard he must have left bruises when he fucked the gap of his thighs, slicked with lube and sweat. It didn’t mean anything, not when it was just something to stave the aggression off. The creak of the mattress, the sound of Junhui and Soonyoung’s stuttering moans from the other room, the smell of sweat, of sex, of _everything_ —

It’s too much. Hormones, heats, they just make you a little out of it, get you to do crazy things. Before living with them, Wonwoo’s never tried sleeping with an alpha, but it’s an easy way to get the aggression to go away, to keep some semblance of self-control. Alphas like Jihoon— they’re not easy to break, not hard to rough up, and they don’t break hearts when they say they don’t want you.

His chopsticks sound hollow against the base of the bowl, empty now. He licks his lips, trying to get some feeling back into his tongue, to fight off the dryness. His stomach twinges and he can feel it rumble again, but no more, no more. He’s had too much.

He gets up to clean up and do the dishes, getting soap suds and water all over his shirt. He covers the rest of Jihoon’s food with saran wrap, insides churning and twisting the whole time. He goes to the bathroom to brush his teeth and shower, and when he goes back to his room, Jihoon’s still asleep, snoring softly and drooling slightly on Wonwoo’s pillowcase.

It’s hard to explain why, exactly, the guilt still stays with him after that.


	5. jihoon

Jihoon wakes up to three things: the faint scent of food, the sound of the headboard thudding against the wall, and Wonwoo’s fingers digging tightly into his bare hip.

“What the hell—” Jihoon says, only to get cut off by his own yawn and Soonyoung whimpering, _yes, yes, yes_ and Junhui growling out an expletive on the other end of the wall. He closes his eyes, inhaling the sharp smell of Wonwoo’s arousal through his nose. “This again?”

“I think Junhui just woke up ten minutes ago,” says Wonwoo, light-hearted even as his voice sounds rougher, deeper, and not just from lack of sleep. “They’ve been going at it for a while now.”

“And you know this how?”

Wonwoo shrugs. “The walls are too thin.”

Jihoon opens his mouth to say something snide about how everyone’s just too cheap to invest in soundproof walls, but Soonyoung just _wails_ from whatever it is Junhui’s doing, loud and unashamed like _he’s_ the one in heat instead, and Wonwoo takes a deep breath before huffing and scenting at Jihoon’s neck, right next to his pulse point.

Jihoon’s not much for skinship or being touchy in general, though he’s had to build up some measure of tolerance for over the years he’s known people like Junhui. At first, he’d thought Wonwoo was just like him, but watching him skulk around Soonyoung like a shadow and hover even as they traded barbed words made him realize that they really weren’t.

As much as Wonwoo looks like he’d rather eat glass than have anyone come within a foot of him with morning breath and without showering, he’s surprisingly tactile. Out of all of them, he’s the one surrounded by the most pillows on a regular basis, not unlike Junhui when he’s nesting; he says it helps him feel more secure, more collected in his own space, but for a guy that claims to be territorial, he’s always intruding on other people’s space, including Jihoon.

Greedy fucker.

“He’s way too fucking loud,” Jihoon complains, and Wonwoo laughs but doesn’t say anything, already distracted. Jihoon doesn’t need to open his eyes to know that Wonwoo’s looking at him the way he does, sometimes, when he’s contemplating something he normally wouldn’t do.

Like he’s thinking about devouring him the way he did a few hours ago, and more.

He can feel Wonwoo’s breath against the shell of his ear, and he shivers; Wonwoo’s arm snakes around his waist, drawing him closer, and Jihoon bites his lower lip to keep himself from groaning. Barely conscious of it, he spreads his legs wider as Wonwoo presses his rapidly hardening cock to Jihoon’s backside, fitting snuggly against the curve. _Oh_ , Jihoon thinks, fingers coming up to grasp the back of Wonwoo’s head. _This again_.

It’s not— it’s not something they always do. The first few times they’d had to deal with Junhui or Soonyoung’s heats in close proximity together, they took to camping out at someone else’s apartment— Seungcheol’s, if they’re lucky — but short notice, ill timing, the hassle of packing and the inconvenience of staying in a different place—

Well, it’s not too far from the truth to admit that they’re getting desperate.

Wonwoo lets out a low growl, barely anything more than a huff, really, but it’s enough to make Jihoon fall pliant. The thing that porn doesn’t get completely right about alphas in bed together is that it’s not always aggressive, territorial pissing on each other, rough, angry sex leaving all teeth marks and bruises; there’s always the sense of hierarchy in their world, and alphas know when to give in and let someone else take charge, the same way omegas aren’t always meek or submissive. And Jihoon— Jihoon’s not interested in fighting Wonwoo, not like this.

He just wants to block his ears from the sound of Soonyoung falling apart under Junhui’s touch, that’s all.

Wonwoo’s fingers come up to rub at his chest, pinching and prodding his hardened nipples. Jihoon can hear his breathing turn ragged even as he barely registers his mouth working and gasping for air, and he arches his back and moves his hips to rock back against Wonwoo’s hard-on through the cotton of his loose shorts. If he were an omega, he’d probably be wet with slick by now, soft and pliant and waiting, but right now, the only thing wet about him is the sweat soaking on his skin, the drool of pre-come glistening on the tip of his cock. “Fuck,” Jihoon groans. “That feels good.”

Wonwoo’s hips buck up, meeting his insistent pushing, and Jihoon keens, tossing his head back. “You’re a lot more vocal about the things you like in bed,” says Wonwoo, drily, but from the stutter in his breath when Jihoon yanks on a fistful of his hair, Jihoon can tell he’s not just saying it to be an asshole. “It’s different.”

“Are you complaining?”

“No way,” says Wonwoo. He flips them over, and the predatory way he looms over Jihoon makes Jihoon’s breath catch. “I like it. You’re cuter when you’re begging.”

“Fuck you, I’m not cute.”

“Tell that to Junhui.”

“What does Junhui have to do with anything?”

“Everything and nothing,” says Wonwoo, cryptically, and Jihoon scrunches his face up to say something snide and biting about Soonyoung, but the words die on his throat when Wonwoo crawls down to nip at the inside of his thighs, cheek grazing his cock and balls. “Ugh, you smell like you took a bath in a tub full of come.”

“It’s _your_ spunk, genius. And you were the one who didn’t bother to clean up last night after roughing me up,” says Jihoon, rolling his eyes and kicking at the upturned box of tissue abandoned at the foot of his bed. “I told you to wear a condom.”

“What’s the use of wearing one if I’m just fucking your thighs?”

“Lazy.”

“You’re even lazier. You didn’t even wanna take off your clothes completely.”

“I could be cold.”

“In this heat?” Wonwoo jokes, and Jihoon feels his lips curve upwards even as he tries to fight the smile off his face.

“Are you gonna get around to blowing me anytime soon?” Jihoon asks.

Wonwoo peers up at him, eyes glinting. He’s already left a couple of marks on Jihoon’s skin, worrying and laving at the places he’d marked up like a teething pup, away from prying eyes. “I’ve got a better idea.”

The tongue licking a stripe up Jihoon’s hole makes his toes curl and his body jerk away from the initial surprise. It’s a little strange to be on the receiving end of Wonwoo’s mouth outside of sloppy kisses and even sloppier blowjobs, but it’s nothing they haven’t done before. Privately, Jihoon thinks that even with an omega, Wonwoo’s oral fixation would tide him over long enough just to watch them shake and come undone when he eats them out, and the long, lingering look Wonwoo sometimes gives Soonyoung when he’s straddling something or someone innocuously makes Jihoon think that it wouldn’t be too far off the mark.

Or maybe Jihoon’s just projecting. This is Wonwoo, after all. He’d rather sulk in his room and fuck one of his closest friends on the side than even breathe a word of it to Soonyoung.

What strange bedfellows they make.

It doesn’t make the tight knot of want and lust in his stomach unravel, not even a little bit; when he bucks up and rocks his hips back on Wonwoo’s face, he wonders if Wonwoo’s thinking about doing this to someone else. If Jihoon’s just practice for another day. If maybe Wonwoo would be more merciful and let him pause and breathe instead of squirming, close to sobbing out loud. His fingers clutch at Wonwoo’s hair, strands wispy and yielding under his touch. He squeezes his thighs closer together, keeping Wonwoo’s head caged in.

Wonwoo’s hair is growing out again, long enough that it’s due for a cut. With his hair longer, it feels a little like he’s tugging at Junhui’s hair instead, like it’s Junhui’s stubble faintly grazing and scratching his skin every time he dives into eating Jihoon out with gusto. It’s Junhui’s fingers Jihoon thinks about, stretching him out and fucking into him in between lazy licks and nips at his skin. It’s Junhui’s mouth that wrenches a moan out of him and makes him come so hard he sees white behind his eyelids for a while.

When he comes to a few moments later, Wonwoo’s blinking down at him owlishly, a funny smile on his face. “Wow,” says Wonwoo. “I haven’t seen you come this hard in forever.”

Jihoon’s head rolls to the side, exhausted. He’s so tired he can’t even be bothered to feel disgusted by the feeling of his own come sticking to his skin. “Hnngh.”

“It’s hot,” Wonwoo continues, looking far too pleased with himself. “I’m getting better at this, don’t you think?”

“Go fuck yourself,” says Jihoon, with a weak groan. He closes his eyes, breathing in and out as he tries to steady his heartbeat. Everything’s muted now, distant, Soonyoung and Junhui’s lovemaking in the next room far from his mind, thank god.

This is the only reason he even sleeps with Wonwoo. It makes him forget about the bad parts, the things he can’t have, and lets him breathe a little easier.

The sheets rustle as Wonwoo moves to get something from the bedside drawer, but Jihoon’s too out of it to even muster the energy to look. He can still hear and feel it, though— the sound of a bottle being opened, the squelch of something wet dripping onto Wonwoo’s fingers. The sticky, viscous consistency of lube brushing against Jihoon’s kneecaps as Wonwoo spreads Jihoon’s legs wide with ginger fingers and settles back in between his thighs.

“I’d rather fuck you, though,” says Wonwoo, silkily.

Jihoon doesn’t push him away.


	6. junhui

“Which do you like more: cats or dogs?”

Soonyoung says this apropos of nothing, like he isn’t sitting on Junhui’s cock and driving Jun crazy with every rock of his hips. Any other day and Junhui would perk up and drag Soonyoung to the nearest shelter, but right now Junhui’s down to the last stretch of his heat and it’s taking longer to get to the end, more excruciating than pleasurable at this point. Right now, all Junhui wants to do is just flip him over and get the edge off before sleeping for an entire day without touching his dick, and _then_ maybe they could start talking about making commitments and life choices neither of them are probably prepared to make.

“What?” He croaks out, too exhausted to cant his hips upwards and meet Soonyoung’s motions halfway, but Soonyoung just leans forward to place his palms over Junhui’s chest to prop himself up better as he rides him faster, the smacking noises of wet skin against skin messy and loud and driving Junhui just a little bit crazy, enough to make him lose focus. 

“Cats or dogs?” Soonyoung repeats. “Keep up, Junnie. It’s too early to give up on pillow talk just yet.”

“I— _oh fuck_ , do that again, " Junhui keens when he feels Soonyoung clenching tighter around him, muscles squeezing when he wants to get Junhui to come faster inside him. “Ah—"

“I like dogs, but they’re a pain in the ass when they teeth and they need so much attention,” Soonyoung grunts out, brows knitted together in concentration. Beads of sweat are falling from his forehead now, and Junhui wants to push his damp hair out of his eyes but he settles for gripping Soonyoung’s thighs instead. “Cats are easy to take care of, but they’re cagy around new people and it feels like they’re just laughing and judging you half the time. What do you think?”

“What brought this on?” Junhui asks, biting the inside of his cheek and digging his nails into Soonyoung’s skin just to keep himself from coming too early.

“Nothing,” says Soonyoung, breath hitching with every drag of Junhui’s cock in and out of his hole. He closes his eyes at the sensation, whimpering. “Just thinking about a couple of things, that’s all.”

“I like anything cute.”

“Even Jihoon?”

“Jihoonie’s cute—" Soonyoung makes a face, and Junhui feels laughter bubble in his chest even as desire simmers in his stomach. “Never mind.”

The best part about sex with Soonyoung is that it’s easy and fun, and even when they’re talking about the most banal of things, Soonyoung doesn’t make him feel like he has to make up for it with something more exciting. There’s no expectation, no pressure, no danger— just the two of them figuring things out about themselves and their bodies, that’s all.

It’s not perfect, no. There are times they say or do things that just kill the mood completely, like how Junhui had first come to terms with the fact that maybe his feelings for Jihoon were far from platonic when he wanted to breathe his scent every time Soonyoung fucked him from behind, or how Soonyoung gets mildly irritated when he feels like he’s being weighed against Wonwoo. For every toy they experiment with, there’s at least a couple they bemoan the cost of and wish they never tried. Clean-up's never been a great time for them, either, and—well—heats syncing up just suck so much more than they sound.

Even regular heats aren’t always a sex fest that makes everyone happy, not when Junhui knows it’s an inconvenience at best to his roommates and a test of sanity and endurance at worst. And as much as Soonyoung liked to embellish and lord it over anyone who cared to listen, the first time they had sex before his heat hadn’t been picture-perfect, either. Nothing ever comes easy at first.

Junhui doesn’t remember much about that time, a part of his brain actively blocking out the embarrassment, but he remembers too little preparation, too much bravado, and not enough foreplay and lubrication, natural or otherwise. At one point, Soonyoung had thrown his hands up and bluntly told him to stop overthinking before his brain exploded and they ended up permanently killing their boners forever. Call it performance anxiety, call it whatever— “If it’s easier, just think I’m someone else, if you want,” Soonyoung had said, stroking the back of his head with a tenderness that belied the harshness of his words. “I don’t mind. I really like you a lot.”

It’s only a fraction of why he feels guilty for even taking Soonyoung up on the offer. Soonyoung, with his dreams of a white picket fence, suburban house, two kids and a pet. Soonyoung, who likes to take selcas with Junhui to send to his older sister just to brag about his not quite-boyfriend. Soonyoung, who only ever talks about Junhui to his mother when she asks about whether he’s dating anyone or not.

No one deserves feeling like they’re being settled on, Junhui thinks, feeling a twinge in his chest even as he kisses Soonyoung, open-mouthed and heated. No one.

“Do you want a pet now?” Junhui muses, distracting them both. “Is that why you’re asking?”

“Not really,” says Soonyoung, shaking his head. He burrows his face into the crook of Junhui’s neck and shoulder, hiding his expression from Junhui’s sight. “The apartment’s too small for anything but a lapdog, and I don’t like cats much.”

“You live with people that are practically like cats,” Junhui points out, thinking of Jihoon and Wonwoo holed up in the other room, left to their own devices with food, sustenance and the WiFi connection keeping them sane and afloat through this trying time. “How can you not like them?”

“I just like dogs more, okay?”

“We can never end up together now, Soonyoung. I can’t mate with someone who hates cats.”

“I didn’t say I hated them! I’m just saying, pets can be a handful.” Then, with a more teasing tone, Soonyoung adds, “I already have you, don’t I?”

“What am I, then?”

“A dog that looks like a cat, _duh_. I even have the video with the cat ears and the butt plug to prove it.” The laughter in Soonyoung’s voice disappears with a stuttered whimper, and Soonyoung reaches behind him to touch the base of Junhui’s erection. “Did you just get bigger? Holy shit, I knew you were a closet furry.”

“Can’t I just appreciate the reminder?”

“No way. I’m definitely checking your porn tags later.”

“Don’t kink shame me,” Junhui groans. “What if I just really find you hot?”

“See, this is why you’re like a dog,” says Soonyoung, pressing a wet, smacking kiss to his jaw. “You’re so honest and eager even when you look like you could cut someone when you don’t talk. I like that.”

“I like _you_ ,” says Junhui.

“Good to know,” says Soonyoung, with a wry smile. “It’d be really awkward if you didn’t when we room together and have more sex than our roommates do periodically, right?”

There’s something in Soonyoung’s tone that Junhui can’t quite make out, and it’s not just because of the coil in his stomach tightening with every thrust. Soonyoung’s a transparent person, always open and ready to indulge Junhui’s whims and heap attention on him, but he has strange mood swings sometimes that make it hard to drag him out. Even balls-deep in Soonyoung and joined in the most intimate possible, Junhui can feel Soonyoung’s easy, relaxed aura dissipate, like he’s closing himself off and making himself unreadable, now.

Junhui doesn’t like it. He really, really doesn’t.

“You’re still my favorite,” says Junhui, scrambling to placate Soonyoung, distract him, anything to get the discomfiting feeling to go away. Soonyoung scoffs, and Junhui loops an arm over the small of Soonyoung’s back, trying to pin him down. “I mean it.”

Soonyoung thumbs at the corner of his mouth, right before he presses a soft, light kiss against his skin. “You don’t have to lie.”

Junhui falls quiet at that, and Soonyoung doesn’t pick up the train of thought, not yet. They’re lost in each other in the scant few minutes it takes to let their bodies do the talking and bring them both to completion, just rocking and grinding together like there’s nothing else they can think about.

He gathers Soonyoung up and holds him close even if they’re both sticky and sweaty all over, and Soonyoung’s turns limp in his arms, sagging forward and shaking like he’s lost all energy. Junhui thinks Soonyoung looks best like this, with his eyes closed and his chest rising and falling with ragged, uneven breaths, loved and sated. Absent of the frenzy of hormones now, Junhui still wants to kiss him. He wants to kiss him a lot.

“Hey,” says Junhui, hesitant. “Are you okay?”

Soonyoung cracks an eyelid open, squinting at him. “I’m not some fragile virgin you just defiled, Junhui. It’s gonna take more than your dick to break me. You’re not that big.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Junhui protests, squeezing Soonyoung’s hip. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Soonyoung mumbles, sounding weak. He wrinkles his nose like he’s just thought of something he’s not too happy about. “It’s stupid.”

“It can’t be stupid if you’re this bothered by it.” Or, well, it can, considering Soonyoung gets irritated by small, petty things like Wonwoo borrowing his clothes without permission or everyone else going out to eat without telling him, but Junhui’s not dumb enough to say it _now_.

When Soonyoung keeps his lips firmly pressed together in a thin, tight line, Junhui flicks his forehead instead, relishing in his scrunched-up expression in annoyance, a far cry from the sullen gravity earlier. _This_ Soonyoung is more familiar, easier to wrangle. He can deal with sulking more than he can seriousness.

“Quit it!”

“Never,” Junhui insists. “Not until you say it.”

“I just gave you more orgasms than I can count on both of my hands and this is the thanks I get?” Soonyoung complains.

“Tell me,” Junhui wheedles. “Please?”

Soonyoung gives him an unimpressed look, but he doesn’t bat him away or pretend he’s sleeping to get Junhui to quit pestering him. “You just don’t know when to give up, don’t you?”

“I’m very tenacious. It’s one of the things you like best about me, right?”

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” Soonyoung grumbles, jabbing his pointer finger at Junhui’s cheek. “You’re like a puppy digging up holes in places that shouldn’t be touched.”

“It’s a good thing you like dogs more than cats, right?”

“Right,” says Soonyoung. He reaches up to brush Junhui’s bangs away from his forehead, face unreadable save for the watery smile he gives him. When he speaks, his voice is so small and careful, Junhui almost regrets asking. “Curiosity killed the cat, you know.”

Junhui catches his wrist, pressing a kiss to the soft skin above his veins. “I’m glad I’m not a cat, then.”

“Maybe it would have been better if you were,” Soonyoung mutters, leveling him blank look. He averts his eyes, fixing them on a spot on the wall behind Junhui as he takes a deep, fortifying breath. Junhui kisses his palm, now. His knuckles. The tips of his fingers, one by one, until he cracks and finally says it aloud:

“Did you know Jihoon’s been sleeping with Wonwoo?”

Oh. He hadn't expected that.


	7. soonyoung

Junhui’s heat comes and goes like a blur to Soonyoung.

Sure, he has to gingerly sit down and make sure he doesn’t sit up too quickly to strain his muscles, but it’s bearable, little more than a slight inconvenience. Normally, the ache just makes him preen and strut around with an air of smug superiority, refusing to be shamed by Wonwoo’s raised eyebrow or Jihoon’s eye roll at the limp in his gait. Considering it’s _Junhui_ who’s the reason for it, he’s not too bothered with the occasional snide remark, but this time he doesn’t get much comment from his roommates, if any at all.

Then again, he’s been catching up on the days he’s missed at work and making up for it with so much overtime that he doesn’t catch a whiff of them for the rest of the week. Jihoon already works crazy hours as it is and Wonwoo’s a nocturnal, game-addicted nerd who spends more time at the PC-bang when he goes outside than actually soaking up his sunlight, but it’s just timing and schedules not lining up that spares Soonyoung from the popcorn audience this time around.

Or so he says, when Jihoon shows up in front of the conference room Soonyoung’s holing himself up in with a plastic bag of fried chicken and a bottle of draft beer, looking more annoyed than hospitable even with his spoils.

“Oh good, you’re not dead yet,” says Jihoon, bluntly, fingers still gripping the back of Soonyoung’s collar to keep him still; if anyone asks Soonyoung later on, he’ll denounce any claims that he’d tried bolting from Jihoon the minute he saw him, not even if his coworkers point out the obvious squeak he’d let out when Jihoon manhandled him just to prove a point. “And here I was thinking we could rent out your bed to Chan or Minghao instead.”

“Uh, I’ll pass, hyung,” says Chan, cringing as he unpacks the contents of the plastic bag on the table, clearly the only one with his priorities in some semblance of order.

“Me too,” says Minghao, not even batting an eyelash or looking up from his screen. “You guys are even worse at cleaning up than Seokmin, and even then I keep him around to feed me and Gyu.”

“You sure you’re not keeping him for his dick?” Soonyoung snarks, trying to squirm away from Jihoon’s hold.

Minghao flips him a finger in response but doesn’t refute it. “Pot, meet kettle,” says Minghao.

Soonyoung sighs, aggrieved, but Jihoon doesn’t look like he’s in the mood for any dramatics at half past nine in the evening. Nodding briskly at the door, Jihoon asks, “Can we talk for a second?”

“We can talk here after you stop roughing me up, you heathen,” says Soonyoung.

“I meant, in private.”

“If it’s about the toilet, I swear to god I unclogged it this morning. And it’s not my fault if your clothes are missing again, you know how clingy and fussy Jun can get about nesting even after his heat—”

“ _Soonyoung_.”

Soonyoung opens his mouth, but lets the protest itching in his throat die at the flat-eyed stare Jihoon levels him. The stubborn side of him wants to dig his heels in and refuse, but the line of Jihoon’s shoulders is turning strained with discomfort, and Soonyoung doesn’t want to start something in front of his juniors. They already have enough arguments with each other to last them a lifetime anyway.

“Okay, fine,” he huffs, scrunching up his face. “We can talk in the meeting room across the hall.”

He shrugs out of Jihoon’s hold, whatever trace of good humor dissipating as quickly as it had come with the smell of food and alcohol. Jihoon follows him out of the room, keeping at least a foot of space between them as if sensing the downturn of his mood. He hovers out in the hallway as Soonyoung opens the empty meeting room and turns on the light switch inside, then shuffles in and shakes his head when Soonyoung gestures at the nearest swivel chair before making himself comfortable.

“What’s up?” Soonyoung asks. “You don’t normally drop by on your day off with food and drinks, so I’m guessing this is either a bribe or you’re trying to give me food poisoning.”

“I’m not bribing or poisoning you, Soonyoung,” says Jihoon, rolling his eyes. “Can’t I just be concerned you’re overworking yourself again?”

“ _Please_ , you probably wouldn’t have noticed unless someone pointed it out. You work even longer hours than I do,” says Soonyoung. “So who was it? Was it Junhui?”

Jihoon shrugs, not confirming or denying anything.

“I figured as much. It’s cute that you’re even talking more because of me,” says Soonyoung, loftily. “You should make me your best man if you get married. I can see it now, Kwon Soonyoung, the catalyst to the fairytale love story of an alpha and omega pair constantly pining—”

Jihoon rolls his eyes, but there’s a faint hint of red on his cheeks, enough that Soonyoung knows he’s hit the mark. “We were getting barbeque and drinks with Wonwoo.”

Wonwoo, huh? Somehow, Soonyoung’s not surprised. He leans back on the swivel chair, looking up at the wall. There’s a lot of things he wants to say about whatever it is that Jihoon has going with Wonwoo right now, but when he’d tried to bring it up with Junhui, Junhui had just shrugged and said it was none of their business, even when he’d looked the slightest bit crushed at that.

He’d expected anger. He’d expected jealousy. The inaction and passivity, though—he doesn’t know why it rankles and makes him more antsy than relieved that he’s let the cat out of the bag. He hadn’t known how to break it gently when he’d heard them the first time, had prayed to whatever god there was up there that Junhui wouldn’t realize it at all, and the muted reaction had just made him— well—

Soonyoung can’t say he’s not disappointed, but it also bothers him that he’s even more worked up about it than Junhui. So much for sticking up for each other.

“It’s just a bad time at work, okay?” Soonyoung says, finally. “You know how it is. He doesn’t have to feel guilty about anything.”

He thinks you’re avoiding him,” says JIhoon, looking skeptical. “He was getting weepy over drinks and wanted to come here, but Wonwoo had to take him home before he made a scene.”

Considering Junhui has better alcohol tolerance than any of them combined, he’s probably just been drinking too much to keep himself from being flustered around Wonwoo and Jihoon, especially now that he _knows_ they’re sleeping with each other. A part of Soonyoung feels sorry that he’s had to sit through _that_ special place in hell, but another part of him, the petty, stubborn part, thinks that only a masochist would have agreed to being the third-wheel to a fuck buddy situation where one or two of them are stewing in complicated feelings for the other.

At least Jihoon still acts like a blushing virgin around Junhui. That’s the only consolation they can get that maybe he hasn’t switched his loyalty from his heart boner to his real boner just yet.

“Guess we should be happy Wonwoo’s always around to stop us from making idiots out of ourselves, huh?” Soonyoung offers, so snippy even Jihoon looks taken aback, and Soonyoung scrambles to redirect the conversation back to Junhui. “I’m not avoiding him. I’m just really busy,” Soonyoung lies. He picks at a fraying thread on his sleeve, fidgeting. “A new project just came in and my boss wants me to take on more responsibilities, and I’ve used up a lot of my leaves last week already, so—”

“You’re gonna end up running out of them when it’s time for your heat, you know,” says Jihoon, quietly.

“Well, it’s a good thing mine are pretty irregular then, isn’t it?” Soonyoung says, rolling his eyes. “You don’t have to worry about it coming anytime soon.”

His own heat’s always been a touchy subject for Soonyoung. Like clockwork, he marks his calendar religiously, because he never really _does_ know if it will come as expected. More often than not, it doesn’t, pre-heat keeping his skin warmer than usual but never to the point of feverish, and then the symptoms are gone as quickly as they come, just like he’s a long-mated omega— which, considering he doesn’t have a mark on him, much less an alpha, isn’t really possible.

It’s one of the only reasons he and Wonwoo have managed to live in such close quarters for so long, as much a blessing to their relative stability as it is a source of melancholy on occasion. Omegas with irregular, unreliable heats tend to have more complications with fertility, even more so for ones that present so much later than most people in their age group, and it’s a reality he’s come to terms with when he and his parents had talked to a doctor years ago. _If you want to have kids in the future, surrogacy or adoption’s the surer way to go_ , the omega specialist told him gently, the touch to his arm barely registering in his mind at that point. _Sometimes, these things just happen_.

A solid lump forms in Soonyoung’s throat, catching. He shakes his head and tries to shelve it in the back of his mind before it grows.

“And anyway,” he starts again, voice rough and cracking, “you should be glad I’m giving you so much time alone with Junhui.” He clears his throat, trying to keep his tone light and airy, like it’s not bothering him so much. “Or maybe you wanted more time with someone else?”

“Stop it,” says Jihoon, sharply, and Soonyoung’s feels the sour undercurrent of victory sitting in his stomach at getting under his skin. “It’s not like that.”

“Jun may have been a little out of it, but I’ve still got ears, Jihoonie,” says Soonyoung, tapping the shell of his ear. “You can’t hide the fact that you’ve been going at it like a couple of cats in heat for a while now. I know what that sounds and smells like.”

Jihoon’s flustered now, and when he gets flustered, he tends to be more scatterbrained, prone to feeling and words first before thinking. He tends to get defensive when he’s being poked and prodded, and Soonyoung likes it, likes picking him apart and getting him bothered, riled up.

Predictably, Jihoon doesn’t take it sitting down. “Takes one to know one,” Jihoon scoffs. “What are you so high and mighty about?”

“I’ve never been ashamed of it,” says Soonyoung. Then, because he’s feeling particularly vindictive, he adds, “I’m helping Junhui out, aren’t I?”

“He’s not some charity case that needs your dick to save him,” says Jihoon, bristling. Ah, there it is, Soonyoung thinks, appeased. There’s the real reason he’s probably sleeping with Wonwoo. It’s all making sense to him now.

“Don’t get mad I got there first,” says Soonyoung, and Jihoon curls his fingers into a fist, looking like he doesn’t know if he wants to punch him or storm out.

“Fuck you—”

“ _Junhui’s_ old enough to make his own choices,” Soonyoung reminds him, “and he made that choice when I offered. _Me_. Not you. You didn’t say anything back then, did you? And you’re still not saying anything until now.”

“I—”

“I don’t blame you. It’s harder to say it out loud when the feelings are more real, I guess.” He steeples his fingers, schooling his expression into a blank one. “But if this is some fucked up way of making someone jealous, then just stop. We’re not in school anymore, Jihoon. Grow up.”

Jihoon doesn’t say anything for a while, so long that Soonyoung almost jumps when his phone vibrates in his pocket at an incoming call. He looks down at his screen and sees Wonwoo’s name on it, speak of the devil. He’s always had the worst timing.

He just lets it ring on and on until Wonwoo gives up and stops calling, and then he puts his phone on airplane mode so he doesn’t have to deal with it until a few hours later when the trains have stopped running and he needs to find his way home. Maybe he can camp out at Minghao’s or Chan’s instead. He doesn’t wanna see Wonwoo, not until this blows over and he’s cooled his head enough to feel normal again.

“I need to get back to work,” says Soonyoung, shoving his phone back in his pocket and getting up. “You can show yourself out and then let Wonwoo suck your dick for you if you need to feel better about yourself, or you can just make sure Jun doesn’t choke on his own vomit. Just— keep me out of whatever game it is you and Wonwoo are playing.”

“Is that what you think this is?” Jihoon says, hushed. “A game?”

“It’s Wonwoo,” says Soonyoung, shrugging. “When is it never one?”


	8. wonwoo

It’s a struggle to get Junhui in bed.

The thought of it is laughable to Wonwoo, when a couple of days ago he would have said something tongue-in-cheek about how easy Junhui can be when it comes to horizontal surfaces. Wonwoo should know; he’s slept with him before, and not completely out of the goodness of his own heart. You just don’t forget guys like Junhui.

Right now though, with his shoulder damp with Junhui’s drool and Wonwoos back aching from having to piggy back him all the way from the taxi and up to their apartment, Wonwoo’s more exhausted than anything else. Junhui’s as clingy as an octopus, even more starved for touch than Soonyoung on a bad day, and while normally having a hot, attractive omega nose at his nape and scent his neck would make Wonwoo’s dick twitch with interest, the way Junhui keeps sighing and whining over Jihoon abandoning them both is enough to kill the mood, much less any incoming erections he was planning to keep at bay.

Stupid Jihoon, sneaking away from the unenviable task of shepherding a drunk Junhui back. He could have used it as an opportunity to score brownie points after getting Junhui flustered enough to keep downing shot after shot like a thirsty man in a desert, and _then_ they could have had their awkward, fumbling first time together, sexiling either Wonwoo or Soonyoung to the couch— Wonwoo would have taken one for the team. Really, he would have. Or he could have watched, too. He’s not picky. It’s just that he finds it completely unfair that he has to play nurse right now while Jihoon’s fucking off to god-knows-where. What a dumbass.

Out of revenge and a desperate desire to pacify his charge, he deposits Junhui on Jihoon’s bed, not even bothering to be gentle about it at all. Junhui makes a squeaking noise in protest, but when he takes in a whiff of Jihoon’s scent on the comforter, he seems to relax and settle into the mattress, boneless and absent of discomfort despite the way his legs are half-off the edge of the bed and Jihoon’s neck pillow is awkwardly poking his side. Part of Wonwoo finds it cute enough to snap a picture. Another part of him is gagging inside and hoping Junhui throws up on Jihoon’s pillow, just because.

Then again, if Junhui _does_ end up puking his guts out all over Jihoon’s stuff, Jihoon will probably try to use his teeth while giving Wonwoo a blowjob one of these days, if only to get back at him without sacrificing his own self-interest or sexual favors. Yeah, uh, no. Wonwoo likes his dick way too much. He’s not planning on parting with it anytime soon, not until he manages to get it inside S—

“Eugh,” Junhui groans, cupping a palm over his mouth as Wonwoo tries to roll off Junhui’s socks from his perch on the foot of the bed, Junhui’s ankle propped up on his thigh. “I feel like I’m gonna throw up.”

“ _Don’t_ ,” says Wonwoo, sharply, turning around to rummage for a trash bin. “You’re lying on Jihoon’s bed. Hold it in if you still want another shot at staying in it some other day.”

“He smells so good, but it’s making my stomach roll and I don’t know if I’m nauseous, horny, or a mixture of both,” says Junhui, dragging a pillow over his head and breathing in. He’s pressing it so hard against his face that Wonwoo’s almost afraid he’s successfully suffocated himself with it, but the way Junhui keeps kicking his feet like a moody teenager is enough proof that he’s still alive, just masochistic. “Hnnnnggghhh.”

“I’m gonna get you a change of clothes and some water,” says Wonwoo, shoving Junhui’s feet off of his lap. “Try not to touch yourself while you’re in Jihoon’s bed. I’m _not_ gonna explain to Jihoon why there’s come on his sheets if you do.”

“Dunno why you have to explain anything if you’re always touching him,” Junhui mumbles, voice muffled by the pillow. Wonwoo pretends not to hear him; he’s not surprised that Junhui already _knows_ at this point, when he and Jihoon haven’t exactly been the epitome of discretion. They’re not particularly _loud_ about it, but some mornings they get reckless when Jihoon sleepily rolls over to Wonwoo’s side of the bed and mouths at the shell of Wonwoo’s ear, the prelude to a quick fuck that makes Wonwoo’s bedhead even more unruly than it already is. He’s caught Junhui peering curiously at them for the past few days more than once, only to turn red and flustered when Wonwoo catches him looking.

He’d thought that Junhui’s tentative invitation to eat together for dinner had been about it, but maybe the elephant in the room was too big to confront, so they’d ended up talking about the only person absent. Talking about Soonyoung and pointedly _not_ talking about Wonwoo and Jihoon’s _thing_ had gotten Junhui awkward and nervous the whole time, though it could have also had a lot to do with Jihoon making cow eyes at him and his portion of food, too. Wonwoo would have laughed at that, but—well—he’d been too busy spamming Soonyoung’s KKT with pictures of the food and whining comments at him to drop by for dinner instead of ditching him to be the third wheel.

Soonyoung’s a shitty friend like that, but, hey—it’s not like Wonwoo’s expected him to prove him otherwise. As much as Soonyoung hates feeling left out, he hates giving in to Wonwoo’s needling even more, stubborn and defiant to the end. It’s almost like he doesn’t want to lose some imaginary game in his head where it feels like Wonwoo’s always winning.

If Wonwoo really _were_ winning, though, he wouldn’t be crossing the hall to Junhui and Soonyoung’s shared room in search of pajamas right now. _If_ he were winning, he would have been mated a long, long time ago.

It turns out that it’s a bad idea to attempt to be a good friend right about now, because the first thing that hits him is how _strong_ the scent of everything that happened during Junhui’s last heat still lingers. It’s been a few days already and Junhui’s done his best to religiously spray the room with air freshener and open the windows, but Wonwoo can still feel his mouth water all the same, instinct winning out. He’d heard the noises, then— the labored, broken moans, the weight of the headboard knocking against the wall when one or both of them had been too rough. Maybe Junhui had fucked Soonyoung like an alpha in rut instead; maybe Soonyoung had done the same to him, rocking up and into Junhui as Junhui keened around his cock. Maybe they’d just grinded against each other and gotten off on one of Soonyoung’s ill-gotten gains. Maybe they’d opened up for each other so easily they hadn’t even needed lube, not like Jihoon did, fingers enough to make them wet with slick and wanting.

Or maybe Wonwoo should just stop fucking obsessing over the thought of his roommates having sex and just go back to being a supportive friend instead, he realizes when he feels his nails digging so hard into his palms that it almost breaks into the skin. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he tries to ignore the broiling in his stomach and nearly yanks the cabinet door off in his attempt to get the chore over and done with as soon as possible.

He gets a glass of water from the kitchen before he makes his way back, but by the time he’s gotten back to his room, Junhui’s already passed out, making light, snuffling noises in his sleep against Jihoon’s pillow. Quietly, Wonwoo takes off his clothes and dresses him in a pair of loose joggers and nothing else, Junhui’s tight grip on one of Jihoon’s pillows against his chest making it difficult to even pull a tank top over his arms. Oh well. Eye candy for Jihoon, then. He’ll be in for a great surprise when he gets back.

He changes out of his own clothes and into something more comfortable, too lazy to take a shower and get the scent of grilled meat, smoke and alcohol off of him. He grabs a couple of pillows and a blanket from his bed, hefting it under his arm, intent on camping out on the couch. It’s not that he doesn’t feel comfortable enough sleeping in the same room as Junhui when he’s passed out—they’ve done it before, after all, sharing rooms on some trips with other friends or shacking up together when Jihoon and Soonyoung are both at their parents’ homes or out of town, but if _anything_ is gonna happen when Jihoon comes back, he doesn’t wanna be woken up in the middle of it and _then_ kicked out afterwards.

Maybe he should warn Soonyoung about it too. Huh. He dials Soonyoung’s number on his phone, ruffling the top of Junhui’s head with his free hand on his way out and shutting the lights off, leaving only a nightlight attached to the plug. Soonyoung doesn’t pick up, though—doesn’t even drop the call and message him with angry emoticons and curse words like he normally does, which either means he’s too busy squinting at his laptop or arguing with his juniors to even notice Wonwoo reaching out.

It’s fine, Wonwoo thinks, settling down in front of the TV after setting up his Switch even as he can feel his brows furrow and tastes something sour and bitter in his mouth. Wonwoo can wait. He’ll try again later, and _then_ guilt trip Soonyoung for not noticing him at all. It’s not the first time it will happen, and it definitely won’t be the last.

In the meantime, it’s just him and his games, alone in the quiet. He’ll wait.


	9. jihoon

By the time Jihoon gets back to the apartment, he’s still in a bad mood.

Logically, Jihoon knows Soonyoung’s right. For all the grudge-laden things he’d thrown at Jihoon’s face, he’s not lying about most of it. The facts, when laid out, are this: Junhui is sleeping with Soonyoung. Jihoon would also like to sleep with Junhui, but Jihoon is sleeping with Wonwoo, too. Junhui doesn’t know that Jihoon wants to hold his hand and his dick at some point in the future, because he hasn’t said anything to Junhui about it. And Jihoon really, _really_ can’t fucking say anything to his face, courage absent at Junhui’s expectant, questioning gaze.

It doesn’t make Soonyoung any less of a dick for throwing it in his face, though. He kicks aside Soonyoung’s slippers in the entryway, still pissed off.

Wonwoo’s playing Monster Hunter in the living room, so absorbed in his game that he doesn’t even lift his head or do much beyond mumbling out a greeting. The petty side of Jihoon’s bruised ego wants to smack him upside the head for looking so at ease on the couch, surrounded by pillows and cushions like a pampered cat and oblivious to the storm brewing in Jihoon’s head. Or maybe Jihoon should take Soonyoung’s advice and just fuck it out of his system, never mind that it would prove him right. He’s not the one with the issues here. Really, he’s _not_.

It’s that same pettiness that makes him tug his jeans off in the hallway, kicking it to the side haphazardly so it’s the first thing Soonyoung sees when he goes home later on. Then, for good measure, he lines his shoes up against Wonwoo’s neatly in the entryway, and then sets Junhui’s neatly on the other side. Jihoon’s never claimed to be above it all, not when he’s pissed off.

He pads towards Wonwoo’s spot on the couch and wrestles the blankets tangled around Wonwoo’s legs off of him. Wonwoo just lifts his foot with a non-committal noise, lazy to the end, and Jihoon would scold him for it if he didn’t do the same thing on his own days off. He settles for puttering around, moving the coffee table aside to make room on the floor, and drapes the cloth over the wooden surface haphazardly, not even bothering to smoothen out the wrinkles.

“Your ex-boyfriend’s a dick when he’s jealous,” is the first thing out of Jihoon’s mouth after he launches himself into the blanket-covered floor, face-down and hogging the whole space.

Wonwoo doesn’t respond at first, but he’s probably just finding a good time to take a break. Or he could have been deaf to Jihoon’s plight the whole time, not even listening. Sprawled out like a starfish, limbs and all, Jihoon tries to take a deep breath and keep his mind blank, free from irritation.

Ten seconds later, it doesn’t work. He settles for sulking instead.

After what feels like an eternity of cussing Soonyoung out in Jihoon’s head and fantasizing about strangling him, Wonwoo finally takes off his earphones and pauses his game to look at Jihoon, blinking owlishly. “Who? Soonyoung?”

Jihoon grunts out an affirmative.

“He’s never been my boyfriend,” says Wonwoo.

“He sure doesn’t act like it,” says Jihoon, tone stroppy now.

Wonwoo fiddles with the cord of his earphones, looping it around his fingers the way he sometimes does when he’s thinking about something deeply. “What makes you say that?” He asks, his tone sounding completely disinterested, but from the way he’s fidgeting, Jihoon’s not fooled at all.

Jihoon props his head up on his palm, twisting his upper body to look directly at Wonwoo. “He knows about us.”

“Oh.” Wonwoo stops winding the cord around his hand, but he doesn’t look or sound as surprised as Jihoon had thought he would be. Huh. “Guess that’s how Junhui knows. He really can’t keep anything a secret, can he?”

Jihoon’s mind blanks out, just a white screen flashing in front of his eyes. “ _Junhui_ knows?”

“What? Don’t look at me like that! It’s not like you’re _that_ quiet when we do it—”

“Oh my _god_ ,” Jihoon whines, folding his arms out in front of him and burying his face into the gap. “I’m gonna destroy his ass.”

“Please don’t. I don’t think he’s even tried getting knotted by anything that’s not plastic before,” Wonwoo snorts, but he crosses his legs and tugs at the collar of his t-shirt, looking a bit flushed. Jihoon grabs a cushion within reach and chucks it at Wonwoo’s face, relishing in his yelp when it nearly dislodges his Switch from his hands. “Jeeze, what’s got you so pissed off?”

“What do you _think_?”

Wonwoo mutters something under his breath, something about ingrates and Junhui that Jihoon doesn’t manage to catch completely. He shoves the Switch under one of the pillows and drags Jihoon up to the couch, maneuvering him so they’re pressed close together and Jihoon’s trapped in his hold.

“So? What do you want me to do about it?” Wonwoo asks, voice light even as he grabs a palmful of Jihoon’s ass over his briefs and rocks his hips forward to grind against Jihoon’s crotch. “Want me to fuck the bad mood away?”

“There’s no lube,” Jihoon protests, but it sounds weak even to his own ears, not when he lets himself be pulled into place and rests his palms against Wonwoo’s chest, feeling his heart beat and quicken under his touch. “I’m not looking forward to a night at the ER, thanks.”

“Who says I have to be balls-deep in you to get you to enjoy it?” Wonwoo asks, eyebrow raised. Jihoon raises a curled-up fist to punch his arm, but Wonwoo just sniggers and drags Jihoon’s hips up even as he scuttles lower until his mouth is hot against the inside of Jihoon’s thigh. His fingers scrabble at the garter of Jihoon’s waistband, rubbing at the skin between the gap like he’s asking for permission, and Jihoon bucks up against his erection, hissing at the current of electricity that sparks up his spine and shoots out across his nerves. Wonwoo’s eyes flash at that, and he peels off Jihoon’s underwear so slowly, like he’s unwrapping a present all for himself. “Or do you just like feeling stuffed full of cock, just like an omega?”

“Eat me,” Jihoon says, flatly, and Wonwoo smirks and does exactly that.

An hour later, after Wonwoo’s wrung a couple of orgasms out of Jihoon and ruined a pillowcase with sweat and semen, Wonwoo holds him close, waiting for Jihoon to catch his breath. His legs feel like jelly, his thighs still shaking from exertion, and the fingers stroking his perineum do little to keep the knot in his stomach abated. “Stop it,” Jihoon whines, still half-hard, and squirms against Wonwoo’s touch, ignoring Wonwoo’s barely-hidden huff of laughter under his breath. “You’re not gonna get me wet just from doing that. I’m not an omega.”

“I don’t mind if you’re not one,” says Wonwoo, placing his hands on the small of Jihoon’s back instead. He strokes at Jihoon’s spine, tracing the dimples and grooves along his back like he’s petting a cat, and Jihoon lets out a shaky whimper when Wonwoo’s knuckles dig into a sore spot on his muscles and kneads at it, persistent. His legs fall apart on reflex, and he sags against Wonwoo even more, boneless and content. Wonwoo chuckles, a light, airy sound. “But it would make things a lot easier if you were.”

There’s something in Wonwoo’s voice that makes Jihoon fall quiet, and he looks up at Wonwoo, watching his eyebrows furrow together. “Would it, though?” Jihoon asks, voice hushed. “What if we ended up accidentally mated together forever?”

“Would that be so bad?”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I’m naked and sweaty with you on top of me, Lee Jihoon. What makes you think I’m joking?”

“That’s—” Jihoon’s mouth is dry, and the comforting warmth of Wonwoo’s body against his feels muggy, unbearable now. “I like Junhui.”

“So? I like Junhui too.”

Jihoon averts his eyes, unable to match the seriousness in Wonwoo’s blank expression. “Now you’re just being deliberately stupid.”

“Maybe I am,” Wonwoo scoffs, and loosens his hold on Jihoon enough so he can roll off and scoot off to the other end of the couch, keeping a healthy measure of space between them. “Is it so bad to even entertain the idea, though?”

Reading Wonwoo is so hard at times, especially when he doesn’t really want to let anything slip. The first time JIhoon had met him, he’d thought they wouldn’t get along at all, but Wonwoo was quiet and didn’t push his buttons much, equally reticent and shy around strangers, almost; they’d only grown comfortable with each other over time, and even now someone like Soonyoung keeps whining that he doesn’t completely understand the things Wonwoo will do or say out of the blue, as free-spirited as he is internally anxious about the things that matter.

If Soonyoung can’t read him either, who’s to say Jihoon can? And speaking of Soonyoung—

“Soonyoung thinks I’m using you to make Junhui jealous,” Jihoon blurts out, hugging his knees to his chest.

Wonwoo snorts, raking his fingers through his hair to push his fringe out of his sweaty forehead. “Haven’t we established a long time ago that Soonyoung’s not a shining example of rationality, though?” Wonwoo asks, drily.

“Yeah, but—” Jihoon gnaws on the inside of his cheek, wondering why the fuck he’s even having this conversation while he’s stark naked in the middle of a cold room. “I don’t think he’s completely wrong about that.”

“What do you mean?”

Sometimes, when Wonwoo looks at people, it almost feels like he’s swallowing them whole with just one look. Jihoon’s heard the same thing about himself on occasion, though it’s more scary than intimidating, Seungcheol likes to tease him. With Wonwoo, though, it feels less cutting, more guarded. Deliberate. Like he’s trying to peel you apart, piece by piece.

It’s almost enough to make Jihoon lose his nerve, but he keeps himself grounded. He clenches his jaw, digging his chin into his kneecaps. “Don’t you think you’re doing it to get back at Soonyoung instead?”

The last thing Jihoon expects from Wonwoo is for him to laugh.


	10. junhui

Everything’s weird the next day.

It’s not even the hangover that bothers Junhui when he wakes up; an aspirin and copious amounts of water have helped ease him out of the pounding migraine and into a fuzzy sort of numbness, but until now it doesn’t feel like he’s completely rooted in reality just yet. It’s like he’s still caught in the space between dreaming and being awake, and no amount of staring at the vaguely familiar ceiling is helping to keep him grounded.

He shifts around in his nest of blankets and pillows, the comforting softness sucking his energy and willpower to move. He tucks his face against the pillow, taking in the scent of detergent, fabric softener and fruity shampoo that Jihoon’s probably (definitely) conveniently “borrowed” from everyone else. Jihoon’s not really the domestic type, evading household chores as much as possible if he can help it, but there’s also a softer part of him that just makes Junhui want to coddle and look after him if he so much as stares helplessly in front of the washing machine with something other than pajamas and sweats in his laundry hamper.

Soonyoung says it’s just him being blinded by cute things. Wonwoo thinks he’s delusional. Junhui’s already accepted a long, long time ago, that he’s an easy sucker for Jihoon’s blank-faced stubbornness, unwilling to vocalize the need for help to the very end. It’s something Junhui’s trying to work on weaning himself off on, but it’s getting harder and harder to say no.

With a groan, he yanks the pillow closer to his face for the nth time; if Wonwoo were around, he’d probably just laugh at him and his struggles, but Wonwoo’s camped out in the living room and probably still asleep this early, especially after staying up late last night. And if no one’s here in the same room as Junhui now, then Jihoon’s probably with him, too, curled up against each other on their couch. That’s how he’d seen them earlier, when he’d woken up at four in the morning for a glass of water—Wonwoo’s bedhead peeking out from under his blanket, Jihoon’s frame a smaller lump underneath, their feet tangled together. If they were doing anything else, Junhui hadn’t been paying long enough attention— he’d almost dropped the glass in his hand at Jihoon’s soft, hushed whimper and speed-walked back to Jihoon and Wonwoo’s room without lingering in the hallway.

Knowing and seeing it first-hand are two different things. He’s still trying to reconcile them in his head, but it’s like his brain’s still processing, buffering when he so much as tries to imagine what could have been going on under the flimsy sheets. When he closes his eyes, he thinks he can picture it: Jihoon’s white, bony ankle. The purse of his thin lips, a firm line pressed together to keep himself quiet. His cheeks, red and flushed, scattering down past his neck, his collarbones, lower. And then, Wonwoo’s mouth on his throat, right above the spot where he could plant a mating mark on him, if he wanted to.

The thought makes Junhui’s stomach clench, bitter and sweet at turns. He doesn’t know which one is winning out, and it sucks.

He feels around for his phone, intent on pointedly not thinking about it. There’s a couple of messages in it, one from Minghao complaining about unwanted visitors invading his space after getting dragged into doing overtime, and another from Soonyoung telling him he’s over at Minghao’s for the night. _Don’t worry about me, Junnie. I’ll catch the first train and be home tomorrow morning before you know it. ♥_ , followed by a _P.S. whatever Jihoon says, don’t listen to him!!! He’s just being a dick lol_

And then, less joking, now: _I only have you, you know. You’re my favorite too._

It’s a sobering thought that makes him roll over and try to fall back asleep to get rid of the growing headache forming under his skull.

Before he can fall asleep, though, the door opens, and in comes Wonwoo, hair messy and expression thunderous, like he’s just woken up in a bad mood. Junhui opens his mouth to say good morning, but Wonwoo just crawls into his own bed, closing his eyes firmly and turning his back to Junhui, clearly not in the mood for niceties. Well, there’s that. Looks like today’s off to a disastrous start already.

Taking it as his cue to leave, he picks up his clothes from the floor and steals a pillow from Jihoon’s bed. “Thanks for letting me crash here,” he mumbles, and Wonwoo grunts but doesn’t open his eyes or say anything else.

Junhui shuts the door behind him on his way out and stops by his room to toss his clothes into the hamper, then heads back out with his towel draped over his shoulders. There’s someone in the shower already— Soonyoung, if the sound of his phone blaring an idol song loud enough to hear over the shower and Soonyoung’s occasional outbursts is any indication of it— so Junhui changes course and heads over to the kitchen instead.

To his surprise, Jihoon’s already up and awake enough to scarf down a bowl of cornflakes. Some mornings— on the rare days Jihoon’s even out of bed, anyway— Jihoon’s slower than even Junhui at waking up, so sluggish he doesn’t even notice anything even when Soonyoung or Wonwoo tease him, and Junhui’s had to guide his hands more than once just to make sure he doesn’t spill milk on the table or poke his eye out with a spoon while attempting to feed himself breakfast.

It’s yet another endearing part of him that makes Junhui feel even more conflicted about wanting to spoon feed him instead or getting on his knees and sucking him off until he’s awake and shaking under Junhui’s mouth. Don’t think about that, Junhui reminds himself, desperately. It’s not a mental image that will help him at all, and if Wonwoo or Soonyoung catch the barest hint of arousal on him, he’s fucked.

He nearly stumbles over a stool and knocks his kneecap against the counter, a punishment for being distracted. Hissing in pain, he bends over to rub at his knee, and the ruckus is enough to jolt Jihoon out of his thoughts and turn to look at him.

“Are you okay?” Jihoon asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” says Junhui, voice nearly cracking. He winces at how hoarse he sounds, praying Jihoon doesn’t sense his nervousness as he drags the stool opposite Jihoon closer to him. “Peachy.”

Jihoon just stares at him, almost like he’s not convinced, and Junhui scratches the back of his neck, feeling self-conscious under the scrutiny. It’s not really difficult to feel anything otherwise, not when he’s half-naked with a low-hanging pair of joggers threatening to fall off his hips and a faded Hello Kitty towel from Minghao slung over his shoulders, so Junhui doesn’t blame him. He’s gotten comments from other people more than once about how weird he can be, but JIhoon’s never said as much to his face, no matter how many times he probably thinks that way. Looking at Jihoon, though, Junhui feels even more off-kilter, like it’s not his own skin he’s in.

Then again, his roommates are all weirdos tiptoeing around each other, too. Junhui doesn’t know how they even work, but they just do. Although looking at Jihoon when he’s like this, Junhui thinks it’s torture, having him within reach even if he doesn’t have the right to look.

He’s a greedy person, though. He can’t help wanting it, even if Jihoon looks like Wonwoo’s just mauled him, skin littered with marks, as bad (if not worse) than Soonyoung at pretending they aren’t territorial at all. They’re both equally terrible at this game, really.

“How long have you been up?” Jihoon asks, breaking him out of his thoughts. Junhui blinks and focuses back on Jihoon and his scrunched-up nose, his sleep-rumpled hair, his own knees knocking against the table leg—

Ugh. It’s not working. Jihoon’s too distracting, and it’s all his fault Junhui can’t keep his head straight. He should have gone back to sleep instead of putting up with this slow descent into purgatory and despair.

“Long enough to catch Wonwoo in a bad mood,” says Junhui, jerking his head towards the hallway and refusing to look anywhere but at the spot on the wall behind Jihoon’s shoulder. “What’s up with him?”

“That would be Soonyoung’s fault,” Jihoon snorts, but he doesn’t offer any other explanation, choosing to examine his cereal instead. “You missed out on the morning drama.”

“Oh. Did they get into a fight today?”

“Yeah.” Jihoon shrugs, not even hiding his sigh. “I’d steer clear around Soonyoung if I were you. He’s making it a habit to pick fights out of nowhere and now they’re both pissed at each other.”

Ah. That probably explains the pointedly obnoxious volume of Soonyoung’s morning playlist. As much as Soonyoung obsesses over local pop music, he tries not to disturb anyone if he can help it. Last time they’d gotten noise complaints from the neighbors, he’d started petitioning for everyone in the apartment to cough up money for soundproofing just to not have another middle-aged ahjumma lecture him on safe sex and heat clinics on the elevator ride down, the most excruciating minute of Soonyoung’s life, apparently. They’d settled for searching cheap and easy ways to do it online and put up makeshift insulation foam from the nearest hardware store around the corners they shared with other residents on their floor. The abundance of carpets? All hauls from Daiso, mismatched and overlapping to pad their noise from the people on the floor below. The shelves stacked with Wonwoo’s books and gaming cartridges along with Jihoon’s Gunpla, Junhui’s DVDs and Soonyoung’s limited edition, never-opened albums? Yeah, it’s not so much storage space as it is an attempt to preserve the peace.

And speaking of keeping the peace…

“He’s probably just stressed,” Junhui offers, weakly. “You know he’s been working a lot lately.”

“Doesn’t excuse him for being a dick.”

“It’s a weird time for him.” And for everyone, Junhui doesn’t add. “I think his heat’s due soon, too.”

“Huh.” Jihoon makes a considering noise at the back of his throat. “Funny. I could have sworn Wonwoo’s rut is coming up first.”

“He missed it last month.”

“Why didn’t he say anything?”

“It’s a sensitive topic.”

Jihoon at least lets it go and shovels a spoonful of soggy cornflakes into his mouth, surrendering the fight so easily Junhui feels even more out of sorts. “Guess we’re gonna need to be more careful around those two idiots, then.”

“Guess so,” says Junhui. It’s going to be a pain in the ass to figure out the logistics of it, so maybe Junhui should corral Soonyoung into a hotel room while Wonwoo presumably fucks it out of his system with Jihoon. Syncing up is rare, but it’s also not a pretty sight, and Junhui’s just glad there’s only two of them at the same time.

Or is it? He’s not really sure. He swallows the lump in his throat, too flustered to even look at Jihoon. “When’s your next rut?” He asks, and Jihoon looks equally flustered, fumbling with his spoon.

“Not until a couple of months,” says Jihoon, after an awkward pause. “Why?”

“Nothing. Just wondering.” Then, before he can lose his nerve, he asks, “Are you gonna spend it with Wonwoo?”

Jihoon’s shoulders stiffen slightly, and Junhui almost regrets asking, longing to brush his knuckles against his nape to soothe him. He settles for curling his fingers into a fist instead, nails digging into his palms. “I don’t know,” says Jihoon, carefully. “We haven’t talked about it.”

“Oh,” says Junhui, mouth feeling like it’s full of cotton. He licks his lips and tries to pluck every bit of courage in him, whatever little of it he can afford. “Aren’t you two—”

“It’s not like that,” says Jihoon, cheeks pink now, as flushed as the fresh hickey on his neck that Junhui’s been desperately trying not to look at for the past few minutes. “We’re not mates.”

“But don’t you want to be?”

Jihoon looks at him, teeth peeking out to bite and worry at his lower lip, and Junhui’s eyes follow the motion, traitorous, weak. “I don’t want to be Wonwoo’s mate,” he says, slowly, keeping his eyes trained on Junhui the whole time. “I already have someone else in mind.”

His brain. It feels fuzzy again, and not just from painkillers. Weird. Everything’s so weird today. Maybe this is a dream, too. Maybe Junhui’s not really awake, and he’s just fantasizing about Jihoon in nothing but his underwear and a barely buttoned-up, oversized shirt, eating cold cereal in the middle of their kitchen with his hair ruffled and his mouth so red and tender Junhui wants to kiss him so badly he aches.

There’s nothing to lose, not in a dream, Junhui figures. But there’s also nothing to gain if he doesn’t say anything to him outside of it, either. Praying his voice doesn’t crack, he opens his mouth. He takes a deep breath, fortifying. And finally, _finally_ , he asks:

“Do you want to spend your rut with me instead?”


	11. soonyoung

“What about Soonyoung?”

Soonyoung stops in his tracks in the hallway, flinching; he’d only been eavesdropping on Jihoon and Junhui for a few moments, intent on listening for any assassinations to his character Jihoon could have been making in the short amount of time he’d been in the shower, but it had eventually devolved into a lot of pining and awkward not-flirting that Soonyoung’s impending migraine couldn’t stand before he gave up the ghost and decided to go back to change into more comfortable clothes.

His stomach churns, rumbling from hunger, and he winces as he plasters himself against the wall, praying he wouldn’t get caught. Either it’s not as loud as it is in his own ears, or Jihoon and Junhui are too absorbed in their own world to notice. He can’t really peek into the kitchen to gauge their expressions, but from the way his insides are flip-flopping, the mood’s so thick with tension his own body can’t help but respond to it.

“What do you— oh,” says Junhui, surprise turning into something more hushed, the way his voice gets when he thinks he’s said something wrong and he’s trying to retract it quickly into pacification. “Were you thinking of asking Soonyoung to spend your rut with you?”

 _Idiots_. Soonyoung is so tempted to scream and haul ass over to Wonwoo’s room just to bitch about it, but then he remembers that he’d just caught Wonwoo curled up with a mostly-naked Jihoon on the couch when he’d come in at ass-o’clock in the morning and he’s still feeling a little churlish about that. Right. No Wonwoo, then. Guess he’s just going to suffer in silence alone forever.

Even Jihoon sounds pained when he splutters out a fervent denial. Gee, thanks, asshole, Soonyoung thinks. Next time he’s got his hands on Junhui, he’s going to be extra loud and obnoxious about it. “No!” Jihoon wheezes. “Do you want Wonwoo to kill me?”

What does Wonwoo even have to do with anything— oh wait. Naked cuddling. Right. He can feel his stomach twinge, and he rubs his belly to ease the discomfort. Soonyoung didn’t know they were _that_ serious, but if it’s like that, then…

Maybe Soonyoung shouldn’t have been so snappy at them earlier and jumped to conclusions. Now he’s gonna have to _apologize_ to Jihoon for making pointed jabs about how he really _did_ take his advice literally, and then maybe bake them both a ‘congrats on the sex’ cake just to show he’s a supportive and understanding friend. Really, he is! It’s just that it’s taking him a bit of time to adjust to the idea, that’s all. Even now, he’s still not fully convinced this isn’t some half-assed makjang drama plot to get Junhui and Jihoon together, and that’s fine. It’s fine. It’s none of his business, isn’t it?

If Junhui ends up crying, though—well. Soonyoung’s definitely gonna follow through on all his half-hearted threats over the years he’s known Wonwoo of ripping his balls off before he even thinks about having kids. And here Soonyoung was briefly entertaining bribing him into being a potential donor for Soonyoung and Junhui’s babies in case Jihoon never got his head out of his ass! It’s a waste of a pretty face. If only Wonwoo just shut up— he’s got a twisted personality otherwise. Grudgingly, Soonyoung has to admit that Jihoon’s right in being wary of Wonwoo; he doesn’t take kindly to other people infringing on his territory after all.

“You’re right,” he can hear Junhui say, and he’s—chuckling? Why? Isn’t he supposed to be heartbroken by now? Soonyoung can’t process anything much on his hunger, but it’s too late to regret sneaking out of Minghao’s couch to catch the first train without passing by a convenience store or a bakery to fill his stomach. ”He’d strangle you if you knotted him first.”

Yeah, uh—Soonyoung doesn’t wanna hear this conversation anymore. Thinking about Junhui knotted up is always a treat, but if Soonyoung has to imagine Jihoon and Wonwoo all snuggled up and knotted together for hours, _alone_ , he’s gonna dry heave.

“I’m glad you find this situation so hilarious.”

“Hey, we knew what we were getting into when we signed the lease. I’ve already learned my lesson from two dumbasses already.”

“I—” Jihoon takes a sharp breath, like he’s steadying himself. Soonyoung’s gonna implode from the suspense soon. He just knows it. “What I said earlier— you know it just means one thing, right?”

“And what’s that?” Junhui asks, softly. Like he knows exactly what it is, but he’s just trying to draw the words out to hear it.

“That I like you, you idiot. I like you a lot.”

Gag reflex. Too much cheese this early in the morning. Soonyoung is gonna hurl. Jihoon doesn’t give Junhui time to respond, though, already plowing forward like he’s trying to get it over and done with, diverting attention to lessen the gravity of his confession.

“Soonyoung’s gonna sulk if he finds out we’re gonna spend my rut together, though,” Jihoon reminds him, and his voice sounds so tender and concerned that Soonyoung is tempted to pat his head and grill meat for him the next time they get barbeque together, never mind that Jihoon’s probably— definitely— on the road to a functional relationship. Whoops.

Looks like Soonyoung’s stuck being part of the popcorn audience in the impending drama of Jihoon apparently being a magnet for pretty boys and their desire to dick him down. Soonyoung’s only mildly jealous about it. Oh well. He’s had his fun, he muses. It’s up to Jihoon to decide who Soonyoung’s gonna end up having to take out for dinner and copious amounts of alcohol to get over a rejection.

(He’s only slightly hoping for it to be Wonwoo, though he doesn’t want to examine why, exactly, he feels that way.)

“That wasn’t a no, was it?” Junhui asks, breathlessly, and Soonyoung can hear the sound of movement from the kitchen, probably Junhui taking a careful step or two. Another. Another. “Are you—”

“Shut up and kiss me already,” says Jihoon, ever the romantic, and the last thing Soonyoung hears before he scampers away is the sound of a sigh and the wet, smacking noise of lips finally meeting.

Well. At least some of them are a lot happier now. They’d better be getting him an ohmibod for his birthday, if it means Soonyoung’s gonna have to kiss Junhui’s dick goodbye anytime soon. Fuck being the second choice forever.

*

In the following days, Soonyoung’s on edge.

It’s a thrum under his skin, an itch he can’t contain. Sure, Junhui and JIhoon aren’t any more vocal or outwardly expressive about their budding relationship, but from the conspicuous lack of evidence of Wonwoo and Jihoon getting their rocks off, Soonyoung wonders if Wonwoo already knows. He hasn’t plucked up the courage to ask, though, not when he’s still in a tentative sort of cold war with Wonwoo. They’ve taken to avoiding each other if they can help it, so Soonyoung often finds himself in the company of either Junhui or Jihoon, the latter only after Soonyoung had blurted out a shame-faced apology in the middle of watching Music Bank while the rest of their roommates were either fixing up dinner or going out with other people.

Jihoon, thankfully, hadn’t drawn it out like Soonyoung had expected him to, probably too drunk on happiness to be magnanimous and forgiving. Instead, he’d just guilt-tripped Soonyoung into treating them to Junhui’s favorite chicken place for dinner, and the way Junhui had lighted up at the sight of the delivery guy and the way their knuckles had grazed against each other’s hand was enough to pacify Jihoon.

It hadn’t been easy to watch for Soonyoung, though; feeling a lump form in his throat and his face still overly warm from what was probably embarrassment, he excused himself and went out for a quick run to the convenience store under the guise of picking up more drinks.

He picks up a couple of snacks and a yogurt drink, then stares at a promo for strawberry milk for a couple of minutes before he finally gives in and gets two for Wonwoo, even if he’s still mildly pissed off at him. He can pass it off as something from Jihoon or Junhui instead, he guesses; it’s not like the asshole ever thanks him for anything. Whatever. He’s lucky Soonyoung’s such a good friend.

And because Soonyoung’s an extra helpful friend, he dawdles by the counter to get more condoms and birth control, just in case. There’s also lube in the store, so he gets some for them, too, just in case Junhui’s feeling more than adventurous and frisky enough to act on all the things Soonyoung’s only teased him about in the form of dirty talk during his heat. Jihoon should be damn grateful Soonyoung’s making sure his first time with Junhui is going to be smooth sailing—Soonyoung didn’t even have the luxury of _that_ , _and_ he’d let Junhui pant out Jihoon’s name while he’d been fucking _him_.

He’s in the middle of paying for everything when he can feel someone stalk up behind him, probably some nosy customer impatient to get to the cashier, too. Before Soonyoung can turn around to mumble out an apology, though, the stranger picks up the plastic bag from the counter and peeks into its contents, rude and uninvited.

“What’s all this?” The guy asks, and from the rumble of his voice, Soonyoung groans and resists the urge to smack his forehead against the counter. He doesn’t even have to look at him to know it’s Wonwoo. He can recognize the damn crowding, the uncomfortable staring, and the low voice a mile away. “Is this for me?”

Wonwoo’s hand feels around the bag, but instead of the carton of strawberry milk, he retrieves a box of condoms instead. Feeling his ears prick and heat up, Soonyoung slams a few bills on the counter, mumbling at the cashier to keep the change before he grabs Wonwoo by the arm and drags him out of the convenience store.

“Jeeze, you’re so embarrassing,” he says, fuming. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you how to not go through other people’s stuff?”

Wonwoo’s still holding onto the bag, but now he’s staring, wide-eyed, at the rest of its contents. “Why are you taking birth control?” He blurts out. “Junhui’s not gonna get you pregnant.”

“God, say it louder so everyone can hear, why don’t you?” Soonyoung grits his teeth. He yanks the bag out of Wonwoo’s hold, so forcefully he’s almost afraid it’ll tear and everything will end up on the floor, exposing his shame further. So much for being a fairy godparent. He’s never buying sex things for his friends ever again, especially if he’s not gonna end up using them for himself.

“Soonyoung-ah—”

Soonyoung closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose, already annoyed. Wonwoo always, _always_ uses that tone on him when he’s trying to butter him up for something, and Soonyoung’s just so done dealing with this brat tonight. Nope.

“Oh, so are we finally done ignoring each other again and pretending we’re actually interested in each other’s business?” Soonyoung says, because he’s petty and vindictive and a sore loser like that, and Wonwoo’s brows furrow together, equally irritated. “No, then? Right. Let’s go back to not judging each other’s life choices anymore. I’m sure you still have a lot to say about me and my opinions on you and Jihoon, so—“ He yanks a carton of strawberry milk out of the bag, shoving it into Wonwoo’s chest. “Good talk.”

“Why are you buying all this stuff?” Wonwoo asks, suspiciously. “Are you sleeping with an alpha now?” 

Wonwoo schools his expression into something less open—though at this point, he looks like he’s ready to rip someone’s head off, and Soonyoung’s not sure if _he’s_ the one who should be afraid for his own life or some imaginary stranger in Wonwoo’s delusional head. “What’s it to you? I’m not— Hey!”

He tries to shove at Wonwoo’s face when he steps closer to sniff at Soonyoung, but Wonwoo’s taller than he is and relentless when he’s trying to figure something out. Soonyoung takes an automatic step back at the feel of Wonwoo’s sharp nose against his skin, cold and freezing in this time of the night. He shields his chest with the plastic bag to hide the pounding in his heart, just in case Wonwoo notices and teases him for it later, but the shocked, open expression on Wonwoo’s face makes him freeze and let Wonwoo continue to nose at his neck to confirm something he’s suspected. “ _Fuck_ , Soonyoung—”

“What?” Soonyoung snarks, trying to cover up his discomfort. “What’s wrong with you _now_?”

Wonwoo pulls away, but he’s still holding onto Soonyoung’s wrist, keeping him in place. “You’re—” Wonwoo licks his lips, eyes dark. “You’re going into heat soon.”

“No, I’m not,” Soonyoung bites back. He should know. He hasn’t been in heat since a couple of months ago, and he’s had times where half a year came and went before it even hit him again, so it can’t be that. “You’re imagining things.”

“I’m not,” says Wonwoo. “I’ve known you for a long time, Soonyoung— I should know when you’re in heat.”

Shit. That should explain the prickliness and the mood swings. He bites his lip and tugs his hand away from Wonwoo’s hold, and Wonwoo lets go easily, even if he looks like he wants to protest. “Whatever,” he says, gruffly. “Just drink your milk, Wonwoo.”

He starts walking back to the apartment, clutching the bag to his chest, and Wonwoo trails after him like a lost pet, the way he gets when he knows Soonyoung’s mad about something he did or said and he’s not sure how to fix it except to be quiet. Soonyoung’s mind is too busy going on overdrive about all the things he _should_ do with the new information to even be more pissed off at Wonwoo—is he going to go home and lock himself in his old bedroom? Does he need to book a hotel? Is there a clinic he can go to that isn’t full up yet? More importantly, whose dick does he have to suck to get Junhui to help him out _too_? _Jihoon’s_?

The silence doesn’t last, though, Wonwoo’s curiosity winning over his sense of self-preservation when they reach their apartment block. “Are you really gonna find a different alpha for your heat?” Wonwoo asks, voice hushed. “What about Junhui?”

“Junhui’s not gonna be an option soon anymore, in case you haven’t noticed,” says Soonyoung. “He and Jihoon are probably gonna be a package deal after Jihoonie’s rut.” He stops, turning to look at Wonwoo. “Or has Jihoon not told you about that yet?”

Wonwoo rolls his eyes. “For the last time, we’re not—”

“Yeah, yeah,” says Soonyoung, jabbing the up button on the elevator. “Denial’s just a river, Wonwoo.”

“That’s not as funny as you think it is.”

“Then why did you laugh the first time?”

Wonwoo snorts, but then he falls quiet, and he stays that way until the elevator doors open and they step inside. He presses the button to their floor, and they sink in silence on the ride up, not looking at each other.

Before they walk up to their door, though, Soonyoung stops Wonwoo with a fist curled into the back of his shirt. “We’re gonna have to look for new roommates soon, don’t you think so?”

“Why should we?” Wonwoo sounds surprised. “Don’t you want to be roommates with them anymore?”

“It’s not about what _I_ want, Wonwoo,” says Soonyoung, unable to let the impatience stay out of his tone. “But they’re gonna be mated soon, and that never works out well when you put other unmated people together with mated ones.”

Instead of agreeing with him, though, Wonwoo just looks bothered. “So you’d rather look for somewhere else to live instead of considering the alternative?”

“What alternative?” Soonyoung asks. “You getting your head ripped off by Jihoon if you mix your laundry up with Junhui’s or bump elbows with him in the bathroom? I’m trying to keep you guys alive and out of prison, idiot.”

“He’s not gonna feel threatened by me.”

“Look, just because you’ve probably had your dick up his ass doesn’t mean he’s not dangerous, Wonwoo—”

“That’s not what I—” Wonwoo sighs, looking frustrated. “Never mind.”

He unlocks the front door, and they find Junhui and Jihoon in the living room, cuddling on the couch. Jihoon’s asleep cradled in Junhui’s arms, and Junhui presses a finger up to his lips as he cards his other hand through Jihoon’s hair when they come in. Something in Soonyoung’s chest clenches, a little like longing, a little like warmth. He nods and leaves them alone, setting the bag on the kitchen table for them to unwrap later on.

To his surprise, Wonwoo follows after him to his room instead of holing himself up in his own bedroom to lick his wounds or—or whatever it is Wonwoo’s been doing lately, Soonyoung doesn’t know. Soonyoung ignores him instead as he opens his closet, rummaging for pajamas and trying not to show he’s unnerved, acutely sensitive around Wonwoo’s presence. He feels like he’s being dissected the whole time, and he’s too exposed, peeled piece by piece by Wonwoo’s scrutiny.

It bothers him.

“You never answered my question,” says Wonwoo, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed.

Soonyoung tenses up, and he bites the inside of his cheek. “What?” He asks, voice rough like gravel and sand are stuck in his throat, clogging his voice up, choking.

“Your heat. Are you looking for an alpha this time?”

“Why?” Soonyoung snorts. “Are you gonna find one for me?”

He doesn’t notice that Wonwoo’s crossed the room to him until he feels Wonwoo’s forehead rest against his nape, his arms coming around to hold onto his chest. It should be nothing— just a back hug, no big deal; they’ve done this before so many times, and yet— and yet— it feels like there’s a fire stoking under Wonwoo’s touch, making Soonyoung shiver. It’s too much.

“My rut’s coming soon,” says Wonwoo, voice deep and stirring something in Soonyoung’s belly. “Why can’t it just be me?”

Soonyoung doesn’t answer, heat flaring up under his skin and making his throat dry up. Words, they’re absent to him now. He can’t breathe.

“Please,” Wonwoo whispers, lips wet against Soonyoung’s nape. “Let me take care of you this time, Soonyoung-ah.”


	12. wonwoo

Predictably enough, Soonyoung freaks out and marches Wonwoo out of his room, shoving him out in a blind panic like they’re in high school all over again and Wonwoo’s just discovered Soonyoung’s exactly the same thing Wonwoo’s been hoping against hope he’d be the first time he’d had a rut.

Wonwoo blinks at the door in front of him, lips still tingling from the heat of Soonyoung’s skin. A tiny part of him still reeling from the vague rejection is sulking now, clawing at his stomach and whining like a dog deprived of a treat, but he tries to steel himself with a reminder that it’s something he’s been expecting since he’d toyed with the idea of offering in his head. It’s not the first time Soonyoung’s turned him down. He’s either laughed it off or waved him away with a roll of his eyes, clearly not taking him seriously, and it probably won’t be the last.

Wonwoo’s holding out on that not happening next time, though. He licks his lips, trying to stave the dryness in his mouth, the burning; if he’s flustered now, then that just means it’s not a completely lost cause.

Maybe there’s something in there, after all.

“Can you move? I need to use the bathroom,” Jihoon pipes up, and Wonwoo almost flinches at the disturbance. He turns to look at Jihoon, who has his arms crossed over his rumpled shirt, looking less than pleased about something other than Wonwoo standing around like an idiot.

From the bulge in his shorts, Wonwoo’s guessing it’s got everything and nothing to do with Junhui. Before Wonwoo can open his mouth, though, Jihoon gives him a flat-eyed stare and elbows him in the gut.

“Sorry,” Wonwoo wheezes, stepping aside to let Jihoon walk past him in a snit.

Trailing behind Jihoon, Junhui shrugs sheepishly and claps Wonwoo on the shoulder; he’s got a fresh hickey on the base of his throat, and if Jihoon’s appearance weren’t telling enough, the familiar waft of Junhui’s slick settles around Wonwoo like a mist, making it hard for him to breathe easy. “Sorry about that,” says Junhui, sounding vaguely distracted. “He’s just— it’s my fault, I think.”

“Weren’t you just cuddling a few minutes ago?”

Junhui groans. “Don’t remind me.”

He looks so unhappy about it that Wonwoo’s almost tempted to just ruffle his hair, except Wonwoo doesn’t wanna risk Soonyoung popping his head out of the door after giving Wonwoo’s offer some thought, only to retract it the minute he sees Wonwoo’s hand innocently touching any part of Junhui’s body and smelling the arousal on Junhui that’s a leftover from a foiled attempt at seduction. Wonwoo’s not counting on his luck to get him out of _that_ situation easily.

Still, he figures Junhui could use a few words of support. It’s the least he can do instead of just moping around. “I wouldn’t have said anything if you guys wanted to fool around in the living room, you know,” he says, the corner of his lips twitching upwards in amusement. “I could have distracted Soonyoung a lot longer, if you needed a few minutes.”

Contrary to his intention, Junhui doesn’t seem to take comfort in his words; if anything, his shoulders tense up, and he just gives Wonwoo a tight-lipped smile that makes Wonwoo feel strangely like he should feel guiltier about something he’s said or done. “No offense, but I’d rather not have my first time with my cute new boyfriend in the same place you’ve been screwing around with him just a few days ago, Wonwoo.” He turns the knob, and he looks surprised when it doesn’t budge. “Soonyoung-ah? Why’s the door locked?”

Wonwoo leaves him before Soonyoung can warble out some excuse while fishing for hints about Wonwoo’s whereabouts in the apartment, glad that he can at least take that out before he opens a can of worms. He goes back to the kitchen to get the rest of Soonyoung’s purchases from the table, then makes his way to his shared bedroom with Jihoon. After dumping the bag onto Jihoon’s bed, he throws his entire weight onto his mattress, heaving a sigh. Nothing’s ever easy, isn’t it?

He’s still stewing in his thoughts when Jihoon shuffles back into their room, newly-showered, significantly less disgruntled, and probably fresh from a session with his right hand in the bathroom. Wonwoo would offer to help, but he’s still smarting from Junhui’s earlier comment, and he’s not looking forward to giving his roommates even more ammunition against him when he’s already down. A man has his own pride, after all. 

“What’s this?” Jihoon asks, squinting at the plastic bag on top of his comforter. He peeks inside, then quickly throws the pack of birth control at the back of Wonwoo’s head. “What the hell, Wonwoo!”

“Those weren’t from me,” Wonwoo grunts out. “They’re from Soonyoung.”

“Thanks, but no thanks,” says Jihoon. “I don’t need it.”

“Clearly you don’t,” says Wonwoo, unable to keep the barest hint of scorn in his tone. “That shower better be clean when I come in there tomorrow.”

“Fuck off, I’m not the one making cow eyes in front of my roommate’s bedroom door,” Jihoon scoffs. “What’d you do to Soonyoung this time?”

“Why do you think I even did anything?” Jihoon gives him a flat look. “What? I wasn’t doing anything!”

“Right,” says Jihoon. “You do realize Soonyoung’s gonna whine about you behind your back next time, don’t you?”

“It’s fine,” says Wonwoo, not at all bothered. “That just means he’s getting more conscious about me.”

Jihoon looks at him with a blank expression, like he doesn’t quite know what to say to him just yet. But that’s okay, Wonwoo thinks, feeling the corner of his lips twitch with a smugness he can’t conceal too well; he’s making progress.

“You’ve got a terrible personality,” Jihoon informs him.

“And yet, you still slept with me,” says Wonwoo.

Jihoon bites the inside of his cheek, looking like he’s contemplating something. “About that—”

Something that feels too much like dread pools in Wonwoo’s stomach, setting him on edge. “What?”

“I kinda need a favor,” says Jihoon, slowly. “A really big one.”

“What kind of favor?” Wonwoo asks, and just to ease the awkward tension a little, he adds, jokingly. “Are you gonna ask _me_ to spend your rut with you now?”

Jihoon still looks like he’s trying to parse his words carefully, and it gets Wonwoo’s hackles rising even more; Jihoon’s one of the most careful people with his words that Wonwoo knows, but that’s only on paper— a bigger part of Jihoon is so quick to verbal diarrhea and emotional constipation that he can’t filter out the harshness of his blunt words more often than not, and certainly less so around people he’s familiar with. That Wonwoo’s had his dick inside him balls-deep and vice versa, at some point, is beside the point— if he can’t even spit it out, then it must be something he thinks Wonwoo’s not likely at all to find appealing in any way, sense, or form.

“Lee Jihoon,” says Wonwoo, mouth feeling like cotton. “Please tell me you really _aren’t_ thinking about asking me to fuck you through your rut.”

“Wha— no! I already made a promise with Junhui,” says Jihoon, face flushed. “And I don’t need you to fuck me, you jerk! Why does everything have to be about your dick?”

“Because it’s a rut,” says Wonwoo, drily. “What do you want me to do, sit in and watch you and Junhui go at it like a pair of rabbits?”

Jihoon remains suspiciously silent, ears turning even redder than his face.

“Oh god,” says Wonwoo, sounding faint, “you can’t be serious.”

“It’s only gonna be a couple of days,” says Jihoon, pitch getting higher as he flounders. “I just need you to make sure we don’t go a little crazy and end up giving each other a mating mark! I don’t want us to do anything we end up regretting.”

“ _I’m_ the one regretting even letting you talk,” says Wonwoo. He grabs a pillow and covers his head with it, trying to block everything out. “Can’t you just—I don’t know—tie Junhui up and gag him or something?”

“I trust myself less than I trust Junhui.”

Clearly a bad idea, considering drunken Junhui had confessed to having deep-set fantasies about Jihoon during his heat and all but professed his undying need to gobble Jihoon up right in front of Jihoon’s sex friend _and_ the unlucky cab driver all in one go. Jihoon has no idea what he’s even in for, never mind that Junhui’s apparently the sentimental enough type to want the experience to be something more detailed and exhausting than anything easy.

“Have you even _talked_ to him about this?”

“We’ve— we’ve touched on it before,” says Jihoon, not looking Wonwoo in the eye. Wonwoo figures it’s probably something along the lines of dirty talk rather than any actual, almost clinical planning. “You can always join in, if you really wanted to.”

“Somehow, I don’t think Junhui’s as okay with it as you think he is,” Wonwoo mutters under his breath. “This is a terrible idea, just so you know.”

“I know,” says Jihoon, quietly. Wonwoo can feel the side of his bed dip with Jihoon’s weight, and the palm resting on the back of his thigh is more tentative, seeking permission than demanding. “You don’t have to do it if you really don’t want to. I just thought maybe it’d be easier with you around.”

That’s not really something you think of when you’re thinking about maybe mating with someone else for life in the long-run, Wonwoo wants to tell him. What about next time? Do they have to do this until they think they’re ready? Will it be like this for Junhui’s next heat? Does that mean they’ll have to ask Soonyoung when _that_ happens in the near future—

Something twinges in the base of Wonwoo’s belly, just as his mind latches onto that realization. His thoughts keep jumping and flitting in his mind, making him terribly distracted, but there’s no time for that, not when Jihoon’s waiting for an answer. And if Junhui’s heats are involved— if Jihoon’s afraid even now— if _Soonyoung_ will be there, watching, waiting, too—

Well. Wonwoo’s never claimed to be a pure-hearted soul. All wolves need to eat, after all, and desperation drives greedy, starving men to do things they’d never really do otherwise.

Slowly, he drags the pillow away from his head and pushes himself up on his forearms, twisting his upper body to look at Jihoon. “I’ll do it,” says Wonwoo, and he almost feels guilty at Jihoon’s wide-eyed look, mouth forming a surprised ‘o’. “On one condition.”

“Anything,” says Jihoon, shoulders relaxing as he heaves a sigh of relief. If only he knew. “Just name it.”

Wonwoo schools his expression into a small, harmless smile, careful not to show teeth.

“I want Junhui to ask Soonyoung to be there too.”


	13. jihoon

Jihoon likes to think of himself as a pretty focused kind of guy. There’s not a lot of things that tend to faze him when he’s absorbed in a task or a goal— which is saying a lot, considering he lives with three of the most eccentric people with the shortest attention spans that he knows. Well, two of them at least, but Wonwoo tends to be flighty when he feels like he’s being backed into a corner, and it makes his decision-making skills a little _too_ similar to a loose cannon for Jihoon’s tastes sometimes.

Then again, Jihoon should have expected this. For all that Wonwoo likes to think that he’s the epitome of discretion and subtlety, years of being around Soonyoung have made him more brazen, less wary to voice out his thoughts— the ones that indirectly link to the things he _really_ wants, though, no matter how seemingly blasé or pragmatic they may be.

It’s probably why Soonyoung always whines about Wonwoo being even more stubborn than he is, as recalcitrant about being honest with his feelings to the point of pulling teeth. In Jihoon’s head, it’s simple: Wonwoo likes Soonyoung. Wonwoo would also like to sleep with Soonyoung at some point, and maybe mate and have two kids and a pet cat with him at some point in the future, he’s not picky. But Wonwoo also doesn’t want to let Soonyoung to know _everything_ , so he’ll make it look like it’s all Jihoon and Junhui’s idea, and that he doesn’t even want to be there in the first place except out of the goodness of his heart.

Yeah, Jihoon can read his motives like a damn book, as transparent as the way Wonwoo’s face had seemed to light up and something in his head just _clicked_ when he’d found an opportunity in Jihoon’s proposition. No wonder Soonyoung has reservations of how Wonwoo tends to go through life like it’s one of his RPGs or simulators. It’s like Wonwoo’s determined to go through every single cheat code instead of living an honest, straightforward life without a FAQ in hand and a dozen (illegal) save files in the other.

Jihoon’s already slightly regretting even bringing it up, but hey— he’s desperate, too. When he’d kissed Junhui back the first time, a stupid, hopeful part of him had thought that the intimacy would come quickly after and that he could spend the days leading up to his rut in a fuzzy sort of warmth and bubbling happiness akin to the fluttering feeling being able to hold Junhui’s hand in public had given him, but even that was apparently too much to hope for. For some reason, Junhui’s been handling him with kid gloves like they’re horny teenagers with no parents around and counting on a celibacy pact to get them through the urge to do more than just make out, and it’s honestly driving Jihoon _crazy_.

“If a guy asks to spend your rut with you for the first time but doesn’t do anything below the belt before then, what does that make you?” He’d asked Seungcheol a couple of days ago over Facetime, and Seungcheol had squinted at him and looked like he wanted to say something more but was held back by what Jihoon hoped was his best resting bitch face to even make fun of him.

“Desperate, that’s what,” said Seungcheol, smirking.

“I think it’s romantic,” someone else piped up— Jisoo, it sounded like, god _damn it_ , Seungcheol! “Right, Jeonghan?”

“He’s trying to build up to it by making you squirm in anticipation,” said Jeonghan, ignoring Jihoon’s strangled yelp of _did you put me on fucking speaker phone, you dick?_ “It’s all about the journey, not the destination, Jihoon.” Jeonghan chuckles. “Although I would have thought Wonwoo only wanted to torture Soonyoung with things like that. Looks like he’s fonder of you than we thought he was.”

“Wonwoo?” Jisoo repeats, blankly. “I thought we were talking about Junhui?”

“Why would we be talking about Junhui? Wasn’t he sucking Wonwoo’s dick last time they stayed over?”

“But hasn’t Junhui been posting all those cryptic cat memes? I thought all those grumpy cat pics were supposed to be Jihoon.”

“Isn’t he sleeping with Soonyoung?” A pause. “Jihoon, who are you _really_ banging this time?”

“This conversation is over,” Jihoon informed them. “And I’m blocking all your numbers from now on.”

“Lee Jihoon—”

Jihoon hung up before they could probe into his convoluted love life, but the confusion lingered long afterwards. He’s thought about the strange conversation he’s had with Wonwoo a few days ago, how Wonwoo had adamantly refused to entertain the idea that Soonyoung had a point about Wonwoo sleeping around with everyone _but_ him out of spite, and maybe Wonwoo isn’t wrong about that, too. Maybe it just so happened that the occasion’s never come up. Maybe he’s never offered, either.

Or maybe he has, and he’s never gotten the answer he’s been looking for all this time.

Strange, that.

Soonyoung’s jealous. Despite his claims otherwise, though, Jihoon knows what jealousy looks like. He’s felt it, time and again, whenever he could hear Soonyoung pant out Junhui’s name, or see the marks and finger-shaped bruises Soonyoung left on Junhui’s skin. Soonyoung’s right about one thing, though. It really is a lot harder to say things, the more you mean them.

Wonwoo knows that better than all of them, Jihoon guesses. But it doesn’t make what he wants to do _right_ , and Jihoon should have shut him down back then, should have drawn the line and never have even considered it, but—

He doesn’t know why he didn’t.

He’s too distracted by his thoughts that he doesn’t really notice that Junhui’s been calling his name from across the subway until Junhui tucks his chin on the crook of his neck and shoulder and presses a kiss to the shell of his ear, making him jump and hold his hands up into a fist. “Jihooniiiie,” he hears Junhui whine as he yelps and shoves Junhui’s face away. “That hurts!”

“Don’t surprise me like that,” says Jihoon, cupping a palm over his ear. It still feels warm, sensitized from where Junhui’s lips had lingered. Even now, he’s still not used to being on the receiving end of Junhui’s affections and _not_ have it mean nothing. “I could have hit you!”

“But you’re so cute when you’re flustered,” says Junhui, taking his hand and hooking their arms together nonchalantly, the way all those leading actors on the dramas do when they’re trying to be smooth. Jihoon would almost be fooled by it, but he recognizes the pout playing on Junhui’s lips a mile away. “I would have kissed you instead, but I know you don’t like PDA that much.”

 _Crazy_. Batshit crazy, that’s what Jihoon is going to be by the end of this. He already wants to kick past-him’s ass for being prickly and abrasive about all the romantic scenes in the magical girl shows they sometimes watch at home, trying to hide his internal struggle with scoffs as Junhui coos over the main couple kissing for the first time. “I don’t mind,” he mumbles, tightening his grip against Junhui’s arm. He wants to be grossly public and couple-y if that’s what Junhui wants, too.

Junhui’s surprised expression smoothens into something softer as they continue to walk out of the subway, but when they hit the main road, Junhui pulls him into a narrow, darkened alley behind a convenience store and kisses him, hard. It’s far from the kittenish pecks Junhui gives him when they pass by each other in the hallway or the bathroom, and it’s not as heated and desperate as when they make out when Wonwoo and Soonyoung aren’t around, but it still makes Jihoon’s knees buckle and feel like his legs are going to give up the ghost.

“What was that for?” Jihoon blurts out when they break apart. Junhui snickers, pressing a light, chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth, and he lets his hand come up to cup the side of Jihoon’s (probably red) face, thumb brushing against the swell of his cheeks.

“I just felt like it,” says Junhui, humming. He turns his heel, tugging on Jihoon’s hand and trying to lead him back out to the sidewalk like he hasn’t just made Jihoon’s insides liquefy and turn into jelly. “And anyway, you looked like something was bothering you. I just wanted to distract you for a bit.”

“How magnanimous of you,” says Jihoon, drily, even as his face still feels like it’s melting off of his bones, skin hot all over. It’s a good thing it’s so dark in here— Junhui would be even more insufferable if he sees how much he affects Jihoon. It’s bad enough he knows Jihoon’s so weak to his face. He’s too dangerous for Jihoon’s heart, and the wild beating of his heart against his chest is making Jihoon think that Junhui’s probably not good for his health or sanity _at all_.

“I wouldn’t say it’s that,” says Junhui, giving him a coy smile, like he’s guiltless in all of this. “If you haven’t noticed by now, I’m a greedy person that just wants my boyfriend to only look at me.”

The words are enough to sober Jihoon up, like a bucket of ice-cold water’s just been upended on him. Oh. Right. That’s still something he hasn’t mustered the courage to tell Junhui, wary of how he’ll even take it. But if he doesn’t, then Jihoon’s fucked, isn’t he? When his rut comes, he’ll probably mark Junhui up without even being fully conscious of it, and then Junhui will realize that maybe Jihoon’s too much for him to handle, that he deserves something else.

That maybe he doesn’t like the ugly parts about Jihoon’s biology, and it terrifies him completely.

“About that,” he says, biting the inside of his cheek and digging his heels into the concrete floor before they can completely make it back into the main road. Junhui looks at him curiously, brows knitted together. “I need to talk to you about something.”

“What?” Junhui asks, only to sound worried when Jihoon averts his eyes. “What is it?”

“It’s just—” Jihoon takes a deep breath, then steels himself before he can lose the nerve. “What do you think about Wonwoo and Soonyoung?”

“Wonwoo and Soonyoung?” Junhui repeats, blankly. It’s probably not an ideal conversation to have while they’re in the middle of a (largely empty) street, but Jihoon thinks that now’s a better time than never, not when their roommates are probably at home too, playing a childish game of avoidance all over again. “I think the two of them are idiots, but I’m sure they would say the same for me.”

“I don’t mean it like that,” says Jihoon. “I mean— they’re both gonna go through their cycles earlier than I will, and I don’t think they’re gonna do anything out of the norm anytime soon. Are you going to help Soonyoung with his?”

“I wasn’t planning to,” says Junhui, voice hushed. “Did you want me to?”

“I don’t— I don’t care,” Jihoon lies, face turning hot again now, not from the kind of pleasant embarrassment he’s come to like over time. “It’s up to you if you want to.”

A brief flash of hurt appears on Junhui’s face, and Jihoon is already regretting the way this conversation is going. “It’s not just about what _I_ want,” says Junhui. “ _I’d_ mind if you let Wonwoo touch you when he’s in a rut.”

“They’re our friends,” says Jihoon, weakly. “You know how crazy heats and ruts can get. Wasn’t that why Soonyoung started helping you out at first? To help you out, as a friend?”

“You’re _my_ boyfriend, though,” Junhui points out, still upset. He’s doing that thing where he’s getting frantic, the way he does when he feels too much about something to the point of frustration. “I’m not interested in being with other people if you’re not there!”

“So you’d do it if I were there with you?”

Junhui’s quiet for a moment, face impassive; when he shuts himself off, he tends to look even more distant than Wonwoo can get, more unreachable. It’s a large part of why Jihoon’s always felt out of sorts around him at first, the disconnect between his playfulness and his appearance jarring. Jihoon almost, _almost_ wants to backpedal and take it back, but he can’t, not when he’s going to ask something from Junhui that he may not be prepared to give.

“Jihoonie…” He starts, then bites his lip, like he’s considering how to phrase it. “What’s this really about? Are you unhappy about something? Is this because I told you doing stuff on the couch with you made me feel uncomfortable?”

Jihoon opens his mouth, but Junhui’s hard to reel back in now that he’s too carried away by his thoughts to even let him get a word in. “I know it’s not fair for me to bring it up when it was in the past, but I can’t help it. I like Wonwoo well enough, but when I think about how he’s had you for a longer time, my mind just blanks out and gets into a really weird place. It’s like he knows something about you that _I_ don’t, and it bothers me that you’re a lot closer to him than I can be to you.”

Funny, how that’s the same thing Jihoon feels about Soonyoung. “Junhui—"

“It’s an ugly part of me I don’t wanna have, but it’s _there_ , and I just—” Junhui clenches his jaw. “If you hate it, if you’re bothered by it, I understand if you’d wanna break up with me. It’s not fair to you, me being too territorial when we haven’t even mated or anything. I mean, _I_ wanna mate with you, but I don’t know if you want that too, and—”

“Junhui,” Jihoon yells, reaching up to clap his hands against Junhui’s cheeks gently and holding on firmly enough to keep him in place. “Can you just shut up and let me talk?”

Junhui’s mouth is still agape, but he nods weakly in response.

“I don’t wanna break up with you,” says Jihoon, torn between exasperation and fondness, something in his chest twinging at Junhui’s kicked puppy expression. “I was just gonna ask you if you were okay with setting those two dumbasses up by pretending to ride Soonyoung’s heat out with him next time.”

“Like,” Junhui looks adorably confused now, “all of us together? The four of us?”

“Yes,” says Jihoon, closing his eyes. “But only if you wanted to.”

Junhui licks his lips, voice small when he speaks, like he doesn’t tower over Jihoon as it is. “And if I didn’t, would you be okay with it?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Jihoon says, hiding his embarrassment with a roll of his eyes. He could just call it off and tell Wonwoo to get his head out of his ass and just _ask_ Soonyoung already. “I’m fine with doing anything you want to.”

“Even if I asked you to get rid of the couch?”

“We can burn it and pick another one up on the way back,” Jihoon assures him. “I’ll even let you light the match. You can’t get rid of me just yet, Wen Junhui.”

“Oh, thank god,” says Junhui, voice sounding wet as he breathes out a sigh of relief that makes Jihoon release the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “I’m glad you’re not gonna break up with me.”


	14. junhui

Soonyoung’s been cranky lately.

Junhui’s not surprised. He knows Soonyoung’s heat is coming up, and as much as he enjoys helping Junhui with his heats, he usually treats his own cycles with indifference. Now that he’s made it abundantly clear that he’s not expecting Junhui to return the favor anytime soon either, it’s like that mask of nonchalance is slowly giving way to his more irritable side, to the point that even Minghao and Chan have been whining and complaining about it to Junhui every time they’re forced to deal with Soonyoung in a bad mood at work.

A stressed out, irritable Soonyoung’s not great to be with, especially when he seems to make it his personal mission to drag everyone into a snit with him. Everyone except Wonwoo, that is— if anything, Soonyoung’s been giving him a wide berth, prone to haltingly probe Junhui or Jihoon on Wonwoo’s whereabouts just to make sure they’re not in the same room together alone, but Wonwoo’s surprisingly more patient with him than he would have been months ago under the same scenario. Whatever it is they’d talked about— if they’d even been talking— it’s gotten Soonyoung out of sorts and Wonwoo the complete opposite of it.

Junhui knows better by now, though. Jihoon’s told him all about Wonwoo’s _request_ , and Junhui might not be completely comfortable with the idea of Wonwoo still playing an active role in Jihoon’s sex life, but his sentimental side eager to do a bit of matchmaking and maneuvering is sorely tempted to hurry it along, for the sake of domestic peace.

Outside of their shared apartment, though— Junhui’s working on that one, too.

 _You_ have _to do something, gege_ , Minghao sends to their secret group chat in between all the angry gifs and emoticons; he and Soonyoung had gotten into yet another argument before they’d even had their second cup of coffee this morning, and it’s always Junhui that has to run interference even when he’s not even in the same company as they are. _I can’t be held liable for my actions or_ his _safety if he keeps acting like he’s got a stick up his ass_.

 _Is this what he gets like when he’s not getting laid_ , Chan wonders, making Junhui choke and shield his phone screen away from the high school students standing beside him on the platform while they wait for the train to come. _Can’t you do something about that, hyung?_

 _I have a boyfriend!!! ( ͒˃⌂˂ ͒)_ Junhui protests.

 _Jihoon-hyung will live_ , says Minghao. _Soonyoung-hyung, though— I can’t guarantee if he will._

 _Take one for the team and suck it up, hyung_ , Chan begs.

 _(╯°Д°）╯︵/(.□ . )_ , Jun texts back, and locks his phone and pays no attention to any of their incoming messages for the rest of the train ride.

Still, as much as he stubbornly ignores them, he ends up asking Soonyoung out to grab dinner with him on the way home. He texts Jihoon about it, too, tentatively informing him about his plans of bringing up _that_ favor while he butters Soonyoung up with food and alcohol, and while he doesn’t get more than a short, stilted _ok_ at first, he’s rewarded for his efforts with a 3-second clip of Jihoon sulking in the studio with his lower lip jutting out and a cat filter layered over his pouting face.

God, Junhui thinks, pressing his phone against his forehead and trying not to wheeze. His boyfriend is too cute even when he claims he’s anything but that.

He spends the time waiting for Soonyoung to clock out of work idly going through Jihoon’s SNS profile and liking all his past without shame this time— a feat he couldn’t bring himself to do when they’d been nothing but roommates, too afraid of looking like a creepy stalker otherwise. Jihoon doesn’t really have a lot of pictures on his feed, but he takes better selcas than Wonwoo does, at least, so Junhui’s mildly hopeful that they can at least clutter up an album full of memories together. And even if Jihoon doesn’t want them to be posted publicly for their entire friends and family to see— well. Junhui’s totally fine with that. He can just take all the pictures for himself to keep, even if Wonwoo snorts and shakes his head at him for it.

He’s filming himself blowing a kiss to the front camera of his phone to send to Jihoon as a pick-me-upper for his impending overtime when Soonyoung comes barreling in through the front door of the café Junhui picked out, clutching his coat and bag to his chest and panting. His face is red and his shoulders are shaking from exertion, but when he sees Junhui, he lets out a bright, unbothered smile, the way he always does when he’s either extremely pleased about something, or just faking it so Junhui doesn’t have to worry. From the stiffness of his clenched jaw and the way he keeps fidgeting in his seat, though, Junhui’s anything _but_ completely at ease.

“This is a surprise,” says Soonyoung by way of greeting, sliding into the chair across Junhui and hanging his bag on the hook under the table carelessly. “I would have thought you’d be on a date with Jihoonie on a Friday night instead of me.”

“He’s got a deadline with his agency,” says Junhui. “I don’t think he’s coming home until midnight.”

“So I’m just your backup date?” Soonyoung asks, and Junhui’s awkward smile turns panicked. Soonyoung wrinkles his nose, snorting. “I’m kidding. I don’t mind getting free food out of it.”

“You get paid more than I do!” Junhui splutters.

They bicker over the inevitable bill and the menu, if only for show. Junhui had been planning on paying anyway, considering the gravity of the favor he’s planning on asking Soonyoung, but a part of him that feels guilty about it is seriously thinking about getting Wonwoo to reimburse him instead. He lets Soonyoung pick out the choicest, more expensive meat-based dishes on the menu, his complaints about Soonyoung draining him dry waved off with a pointed jab about more orgasms wrung out from _him_ than shared inviting more than one raised eyebrow and dirty look from the other patrons. It’s so different from how he and Soonyoung had been, before they’d figured each other out and settled into a tentative friendship. He likes this Soonyoung better than the one that had wanted nothing more than to impress him and pretended not to roll his eyes every time Junhui put his foot in his mouth and said something that didn’t suit his appearance at all.

(“You’re different from what I’d expected,” Soonyoung had told him in careful, hesitant words long ago. His smile was bright and blinding under the light, but it hadn’t felt real, far from being comforting.

“Yeah,” said Junhui, shrugging the brief flash of hurt off with an awkward laugh. “I get that a lot.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it,” said Soonyoung, hurriedly. “It’s— just different. But in a good way.” He stuffed his hands into his pockets, looking at him with a warmth that may have made Junhui feel a little bit in danger of liking him more than _he’d_ expected either. “You remind me of a friend I have. I think you and Wonwoo should meet.”

“Why? Are you planning on setting me up with other people, Kwon Soonyoung?”

“No way,” said Soonyoung, looping their arms together and eyes crinkling in glee. “I’d rather have you all to myself, Wen Junhui.”)

He’s always been vocal about the things he wanted. The things he didn’t, too. After they’d ordered and the small talk had tapered off, though, Soonyoung’s quiet and distracted, fiddling with his phone like he’s waiting for something to happen. A call or a text, maybe, and every time he gets one, he hurries to swipe at his screen, only to frown when it’s not who he’s expected it to be.

There’s only one person that’s capable of commanding Soonyoung’s complete attention away from Junhui, he’s found over the years. Most of the time, it’s irritation at Wonwoo that drives Soonyoung crazy. He’s always had a way to get under his nerves, even without meaning to.

And from Soonyoung’s tentative question, Junhui’s not far off the mark either. “Have you gotten any messages from Wonwoo lately?”

“Uh,” Junhui pointedly does _not_ look at his inbox, Wonwoo among the last few people he’s been chatting with. “No more than usual. Why?”

Soonyoung frowns, not saying anything for a moment as he takes a sip of his milk tea. “I think Wonwoo’s plotting something.”

“Why would he even do that?” Junhui muses, trying to put on an impassive face and not let the panic seep through. _ABORT, ABORT_ , he thinks of sending Jihoon. _He’s caught us red-handed, commander. Time to throw in the towel and put this mission to rest._ “He’s too busy catching up on— what was that game he bought last week?”

“No reason,” Soonyoung squeaks out, the tips of his ears turning red. _Interesting_. He takes a longer, more fortifying gulp of his drink again, suddenly eager to change the subject. “You’re right. Maybe I’m being too paranoid. He’s probably just playing by himself right now.”

Whatever it is that’s happened between the two of them, it must be big enough to get Soonyoung worked up and unwilling to divulge anything more than he absolutely has to. _Huh_. Maybe this would actually be easier than he’d thought it would be.

“Maybe he is,” says Junhui, opting for a more disaffected tone, and Soonyoung visibly relaxes at that, his grip around his straw loosening. “A guy needs to get his video games out of the way before other stuff crops up, after all.”

“Yeah,” Soonyoung snorts. He tugs at the collar of his shirt, trying to loosen it up even more, but he’s already got the top buttons undone and any more would probably get him handcuffed for public indecency. “Did you know he’s having his rut soon?”

“No,” Junhui lies. “He hasn’t mentioned anything to me.” Which, technically, is the truth, considering Junhui’s heard it from _Jihoon_. “Do you think he’s gonna go home for it?”

“He’ll probably just hole himself up in his room,” says Soonyoung, eyes darting everywhere but at Junhui’s face. “He’ll be fine.”

A part of Junhui knows he shouldn’t pry, but maybe— maybe it has something to do with Wonwoo’s rut, after all. From the flustered way Soonyoung looks and how he’s anything but unaffected, it’s not an unlikely possibility. Now if he could only probe just a bit more—

“Do you think,” Junhui starts, faking the catch in his breath and waiting to reel Soonyoung’s look of alarm in. “Do you think he’s gonna ask Jihoon to spend it with him?”

“No!” Soonyoung blurts out, standing up and looking all sorts of enraged and discomposed, more than Junhui’s seen him before. Almost like he’s _jealous_. “That’s not it at all!”

Ah, Junhui thinks, watching Soonyoung’s chest heave. There’s the answer.

They spend a long, protracted moment staring at each other with wide eyes until a polite cough from the waiter carrying their dishes disturbs them. Turning even redder, Soonyoung takes a seat again and sinks down with a grimace, like he’s eaten something bitter and now he’s just waiting for the floor to swallow him up already.

“It’s impossible,” he mutters to himself, fussing at his collar distractedly. He waits for the waiter to set down their plates, and he seems to be lost in thought as he regards his truffle pasta with a scowl. “He’s not gonna do it. He _can’t_.” He stabs his fork through a slice of mushroom. “And Jihoon’s not gonna cheat on you! I’m sure of it!”

“It’s not cheating if we’ve talked about it,” Junhui lets the white lie roll off his tongue easily, even as his mouth feels like it’s full of cotton at Soonyoung’s (dare he say panicked?) expression. “I mean, it’s not like I wasn’t planning on doing the same thing.”

Soonyoung looks vaguely murderous, Junhui almost regrets the lie. “Wen Junhui,” he growls out. “You’d better not be implying what I think you mean.”

“What do you think I mean?” Junhui hedges.

“You—” Soonyoung splutters. “Are you guys into cuckolding and some really kinky shit? Were you planning on listening in on Jihoon get dicked the whole time?”

Now that he mentions it, Junhui’s _sure_ he hasn’t had that fantasy permanently seared into his brain until a couple of days ago. “It’s not cheating if Junnie’s watching,” dream-Jihoon assured him, voice muffled from where he was single-handedly trying to suck out Wonwoo’s soul through his cock, Wonwoo’s thin, slender fingers gripping his hair tightly. “Right, Jun?” And Junhui could only nod and make a strangled sound in response.

Then again, letting Soonyoung know _that_ probably won’t be a good idea, considering Soonyoung looks like he’s ready to flip a table or strangle something. “No?” Junhui squeaks out. “I’ll be there the whole time!”

The look Soonyoung gives him is flatter than anything he’s ever leveled him before. “So you’re just gonna roll over and let Wonwoo fuck your boyfriend in front of you?”

“Kinda?” He says, tentatively.

If anything, Soonyoung’s dead-eyed stare doesn’t waver. “Kinda?” He repeats.

“You know it’s not just Wonwoo’s rut that’s coming up, right?” Junhui says, and Soonyoung’s expression completely shutters off.

“Is this what this is about?” Soonyoung asks, dully. “Did Wonwoo put you up to this? Were you planning on kicking me out so you three could go at it for Wonwoo’s rut?”

“Well, no—” Junhui stumbles over his words, wincing at the way Soonyoung tosses the rest of his drink back, looking like he wishes it’s laced with alcohol instead of sugar and caffeine. “I was thinking that maybe you would be there too. With all of us.”

Soonyoung looks at the contents of his glass, empty of milk tea now. “I’m gonna need a stronger drink for this,” he decides. “I can’t be sober enough to think about Wonwoo’s dick and you and Jihoon in the same sentence.”

“There’s a bar a few blocks away from here,” Junhui offers, weakly. “Wanna get something on Wonwoo’s tab?”

“Sure,” says Soonyoung, with a loud sigh. “Why the hell not?”


	15. soonyoung

“This is a terrible idea,” is the first thing that comes out of Soonyoung’s mouth after a long, awkward silence.

They’re all sitting in the middle of a barbeque joint, pointedly looking everywhere but at each other. Well— Soonyoung is. He’s not too sure about everyone else, not when he’s spent a good portion of the evening avoiding Wonwoo’s face since he spotted him coming in from the entrance, and some point after the nth time that Junhui kept fussing over Jihoon and plying him with side dishes, he found it preferable to just watch the meat sizzle on the grill to the point of charring.

Bizarre, is the word he’s looking for when it comes to describing how he feels about this entire scenario. No one’s really talking about _it_ , and the big elephant in the room is crowding around Soonyoung, making him feel cramped and suffocated every time Wonwoo so much as reaches over for a piece of pork belly right across Soonyoung, or Junhui accidentally knocks their elbows together when he feeds Jihoon a piece of meat wrapped in a lettuce leaf. He knows what this lunch is. _They_ know what this is supposed to mean. And still no one is saying anything, like they’re waiting for him to open his mouth like cats waiting to pounce on a mouse hiding in a hole with a cheese trap in between their fluffy paws.

Bribery doesn’t seem to suit the situation anymore, no. It’s a fucking trap, and Soonyoung knows it. Too bad his impatience is getting the better of him, triggering his fight or flight instincts.

He’s just not sure which one is winning just yet.

“What do you mean?” Junhui asks, smiling crookedly after a measured pause. He looks at the plate of uncooked meat across Soonyoung and pokes it with his chopsticks for good measure. “We’ve been going to this place for years. This is your _favorite_ , and we’re letting you eat for free. What’s so bad about that?”

Yep. Definitely a trap. It’s just too bad Soonyoung’s backed into a corner of the booth, plastered right next to the wall with no escape. Unless he climbs over Junhui, but Junhui’s, like, all muscled and strong— they’ve had their fair share of wall sex enough for Soonyoung to attest to his upper body strength.

He’s regretting having an intimate knowledge of how easily Junhui could drag him by the ankle and carry him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes right about now, because that mental image just makes him feel a little _too_ choked up and bothered for him to pass off the sudden pinkness of his face to the heat wafting from the grill. Right. Not exactly a compelling argument to make to convince himself that letting them win is anything short of absolute insanity. Never mind that.

Wonwoo lets out a discreet cough from across him, but years of knowing him have already trained Soonyoung into the art of Wonwoo-speak. He doesn’t need to look at Wonwoo to _know_ the asshole is smelling the prickle of interest on his skin. Honestly, if Soonyoung could just let the earth swallow him up right now, that would be the easiest and most merciful way to die, thanks.

“Free food isn’t gonna cut it,” says Soonyoung, scowling. “I’m not falling for this wining and dining trick!”

Jihoon snorts, and Soonyoung levels a disapproving stare at him. “It’s called courtship, Soonyoung,” says Jihoon. “A concept you clearly have no expertise on.”

“Well, _I’m_ not getting wooed!”

“Who says _I’m_ wooing _you_?” Jihoon retorts, looking unimpressed. “ _I_ ,” he continues, picking up a piece of meat and knocking the tips of his and Junhui’s chopsticks together, “am on a date with _my_ boyfriend, and you two are just hangers-on.”

“Whose card is paying for this again?” Wonwoo mutters, not quite under his breath, even as Junhui’s stiff smile relaxes. If it were anyone else that’s the cause of it, Soonyoung would think it’s the perfect expression of a besotted Junhui, but since it’s _Jihoon_ inspiring it, Soonyoung thinks Junhui just looks mostly deranged.

Okay, mildly loopy. But still. The point stands.

“See, _this_ is why an orgy is a terrible idea,” Soonyoung despairs. “Not even a few minutes of talking and we’re already going at each other’s throats!”

“Wouldn’t it bring us closer together if we did, though?” Junhui tries, even if he immediately looks like he regrets even defending the cause not a few seconds after. Trust Junhui to be the mediator in this fiasco just to indulge Jihoon’s every whim. Soonyoung regrets endorsing this entire farce of a relationship. Jihoon’s the bad influence here, _clearly_. “We can take all the misplaced aggression out of the way and hopefully smoothen out some of the issues we’ve been having with each other lately.”

“ _Please_ ,” says Jihoon, looking at Junhui with half-lidded eyes.

“Gross,” says Soonyoung. “Stop trying to eye-fuck your boyfriend in front of me.”

“Well, excuse _me_ , princess,” says Jihoon. “I never complained about it in all the time _you_ did it.”

“See, this is why Junhui’s not putting out—”

“ _Okay_ ,” says Junhui, loud enough to be heard even over the din of the rest of the hustle and bustle in the restaurant. “We are _not_ dissecting the details of my hypothetical sex life with Jihoon.”

“You’re proposing a foursome,” Soonyoung points out, with just a bit of hysteria laced in his tone. “ _How_ are we supposed to not talk about you guys fucking each other’s brains out yet?”

If anyone told Soonyoung half a year ago that he would be in this situation negotiating the logistics of a possible foursome with his best friend, his ex-fuck buddy, and said ex-fuck buddy’s roommate, he would have laughed in their faces. Then again, if anyone told Soonyoung all his attempts at dirty talk would have actually crossed past hypothetical what-ifs and into something terrifyingly real and plausible, he wouldn’t have believed them either.

As it is, though, the three pairs of eyes trained on him in varying degrees of indifference and genuine worry are too unnerving to ignore. Soonyoung’s not used to being the most sensible person in the group, and on any other day he would have crowed and bragged about it to Minghao’s disbelieving face, but now they’re all looking at him like _he’s_ the crazy person, like he’s being perfectly unreasonable about this. And to be honest, the more they act like this, the more Soonyoung’s starting to believe that, hey, maybe he really _is_ crazy. Maybe he’s just being overly paranoid, especially after Wonwoo all but asked him politely if he could fuck him up his ass—

“ _You_ ,” Soonyoung hisses, turning to look at Wonwoo for the first time in days and jabbing an accusing finger at him. "This is all your fault, isn't it?"

Wonwoo, ever the shameless bastard, only blinks and pushes his glasses up from the bridge of his nose. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he says, even if Soonyoung can smell his lies on him.

“It was _my_ idea,” Junhui insists, covering up for Wonwoo for reasons Soonyoung can’t even fathom— is Wonwoo blackmailing him? Is he doing it because he feels guilty about snatching up Wonwoo’s sex friend? Is _Junhui_ the crazy one instead? “I just thought— with your heat coming up, you’d need all the help you can get now that I’m in a committed relationship, and it just makes me feel bad that you’ll have to go through it yourself when _you_ were around to take care of me all this time.”

And then he does The Thing. The Thing that’s made Soonyoung look up ways to talk dirty to someone, or to find positions online that they haven’t tried yet, or even stole Wonwoo’s card to buy a sex toy capable of knotting an omega after Junhui had mouthed into his pillow, weak and flushed and too sexy for his own good, that he wanted a knot _so bad_ that it was impossible for Soonyoung _not to cave_.

He uses the fucking puppy eyes on Soonyoung, pouting down at him. “I just want you to be enjoy your heat for too, Soonyoung.” His lower lip trembles, and Soonyoung wants to roll his eyes so hard but he’s also a weak, weak man to tears, even crocodile ones. “Please? We can do it once, just to try it out, and if you don’t like it, we can call it quits immediately and I’ll never bug you about it again.”

Soonyoung peels his eyes away from Junhui’s crestfallen face, looking at Jihoon with incredulous eyes. “And— and _you’re_ actually okay with this?”

Jihoon shrugs, fixated on the egg roll he’s nibbling on and not meeting Soonyoung’s eyes. “Why the hell not?”

Soonyoung opens his mouth to say something biting about how Jihoon’s the worst actor out of all of them, but Wonwoo beats him to it, his low, gravelly voice strangely clear and loud even in the din of the restaurant.

“It doesn’t have to be anything serious,” says Wonwoo, quietly, and Soonyoung jerks back to look at him. “We can do it once, and then never talk about it again.”

If that’s true, though— then why does he look like it’s taking so much effort for him to get the words out? Why does he look like he’s just eaten something he doesn’t like? It’s the same face he made the first time Soonyoung saw him eat raw octopus on a dare, like he’d just ingested something bitter and foul, but his stubborn pride made him unwilling to spit it out, if only to prove Soonyoung wrong.

And Wonwoo— Wonwoo really fucking hates being in the wrong. He’d gotten sick the next day, bemoaning his upset stomach and milking Soonyoung’s guilt for all its worth, making Soonyoung heat up cans of soup for him and spoon feed him even if they were already in junior high and that kind of cheesy stuff was _embarrassing_ if you weren’t married or mated, but Soonyoung still did it anyway, carding Wonwoo’s hair back from his forehead and giving him a hot compress and vapor rub to soothe his ills.

It’s funny. In that moment, Soonyoung had thought that Wonwoo looked pretty even when he was sick, that the ache in Soonyoung’s chest had only come from the instinctive need of a would-be alpha to protect any omega. He’d thought Wonwoo would be an omega all his life, and that he’d be an alpha, too, and maybe if it happened, if Wonwoo wanted it, maybe he could take care of him for a longer time afterwards. If it was okay.

He’d fallen asleep curled up against Wonwoo in his own bed, and the next day the fantasy shattered as quickly as Wonwoo’s rut-addled brain made him grind up against Soonyoung and pant his name on Soonyoung’s nape. Some things just don’t work out the way anyone plans them to.

“Just once?” Soonyoung repeats, flatly, the words sounding dull and grating to his own ears, enough to make even Junhui wince and Jihoon look vaguely exhausted with life. “And then never again?”

“If you wanted to,” says Wonwoo, face perfectly blank, like he’s just cornered Soonyoung after a week of being avoided and told him in no uncertain terms that he couldn’t remember anything about presenting as an alpha. When he’s like this, it’s hard to read him, not when he doesn’t want anyone prying into his business. “I’ll be fine with whatever you want.”

Before Soonyoung can answer, Wonwoo raises an eyebrow, looking a bit too smug for his own good. “Unless you’re just scared you’re gonna enjoy it more than you expect to?”

 _IT’S A TRAP, ABORT, ABORT_ , Soonyoung’s rational side yells at him. Soonyoung’s impulse control and his patience for Wonwoo’s jabs, however, just latches onto the provocation in a blind rage and splutters in an incoherent mess.

“Fuck you,” says Soonyoung, anger getting the best of him now. “I’m not scared of your fucking tiny dick, Jeon Wonwoo.”

“Don’t worry, Soonyoung-ah,” says Wonwoo, mocking now as he leans over to ruffle the top of Soonyoung’s head. “I’ll make sure I’ll be gentle with your first time.”

 

 

(“Fucking _finally_ ,” says Jihoon, sighing loudly even as Soonyoung continues to snipe at Wonwoo, already tuning them out as they argue and bicker endlessly, the most emotionally constipated idiots butting heads again and again. He turns to Junhui, who looks a bit surprised at the turn of events. “I guess this is really a thing now, huh?”

“Right,” Junhui croaks out. He doesn’t protest when Jihoon reaches over to greedily snap up the rest of his rice, and just blinks at Wonwoo’s (slightly-manic, almost-feral) smirk. “Looks like they’re getting around to patching things up.”

It’s almost too good to be true, really.

 _Almost_.)


	16. wonwoo

“This is really happening, huh?”

Junhui’s the one who brings it up in the bathroom, just as Wonwoo’s brushing his teeth. He says it like he’s talking about the weather or a new series he’s been meaning to watch instead of something life-altering like an orgy, all while taking a piss with his dick hanging out of his boxer shorts and little else.

If the possibility of their dicks bumping together weren’t imminent, Wonwoo doubts he’d even ambush Wonwoo like this. As it is, though, Wonwoo can still feel his cock twitch with interest, so close to the last few hours of perfect lucidity and sobriety his pre-rut can afford him. “Yeah,” he says, rubbing his eyes and squinting at the fogged-up mirror. “Me too.”

Junhui looks at him like he’s expecting Wonwoo to say something more, but each passing second that Wonwoo continues to brush his teeth is making him look disappointed instead. Wonwoo valiantly ignores the pout on Junhui’s lips, only to crack and spit out the foam in his mouth. “What? What are you looking at me like that for?”

“Aren’t you gonna ask me about how Soonyoung’s doing?”

Wonwoo meets Junhui’s knowing look in the mirror, then gargles his mouth with water. “No.”

“And here I thought you’d be more interested,” says Junhui, frowning. “You’re no fun these days.”

“I live with him too, in case you haven’t noticed.” Junhui’s frown just deepens. “Okay, fine— what’s he been doing other than plotting a way to cop out?”

“Apparently not you, if you keep being tsundere,” says Junhui, shaking his head. “You really need to stop pretending like you don’t really care when you’re the one who cares the most, Wonwoo,”

He flushes the toilet and tucks his dick back into his shorts, and then leaves the bathroom without even washing his hands or at least _telling_ Wonwoo what the fuck Soonyoung’s been up to in his room lately instead of hanging around the living room like any sane, unbothered person. He’s not in heat yet, that’s for sure— Wonwoo would have smelled it on him from a mile away if he did— but he’s been hiding away from everyone else lately and muttering things under his breath every time he tries to sneak glances at Wonwoo when he thinks Wonwoo isn’t looking

It’d be terribly cute if Wonwoo weren’t feeling a little stuffy and irritable with every second counting down to his rut.

“Way to be cryptic like an asshole, Jun,” Wonwoo mutters. Jihoon’s rubbing off on Junhui in more ways than one, and now that Wonwoo’s on the receiving end of it, he’s not sure if he likes this development either. “Just for that, you and Jihoon can go fuck yourselves next time.”

“I heard that!” Junhui cheerfully calls out from the hallway, then pokes his head back into the bathroom a few minutes later, looking flustered. Wonwoo’s nose twitches before he can even process it, and Junhui looks the least bit cowed. “Oh, by the way, you might wanna set up your room. I think Soonyoung’s going into heat soon.”

Wonwoo’s glad he doesn’t have the toothbrush lodged in his mouth, otherwise he’d probably have choked on it already. “You _think_?”

There’s a loud crash from the other room, and Soonyoung yelling something unintelligible to Wonwoo’s ears. ”Yeah, uh, that’ll be him freaking out over where he put the condoms,” says Junhui, wincing. “For everyone’s sake, try not to antagonize him too much before you even get to kiss him, please?”

“I’m always nice to him,” Wonwoo splutters, wiping the flecks of foam off of his chin.

Junhui rolls his eyes. “Spit first, swallow later,” he says, and narrowly avoids getting hit by a towel Wonwoo aims his way.

Wonwoo splashes his face with water, then presses his forehead against the mirror and groans. Now’s not the time to go crazy just yet, he reminds himself. No use scaring away an even more skittish Soonyoung if he looks too desperate (even if, technically, he really, _really_ is).

It's cool, he thinks, wiping his face with someone else’s towel hanging on the rack and curling his fingers into a fist around it as he breathes in. He’s cool. He's definitely gonna be zen about this and, most importantly, he’s _not_ freaking out over anything.

Maybe.

*

"You are _definitely_ freaking out right now," Jihoon informs him, not even looking up from playing with Wonwoo’s Switch from under his comforter. "Stop fidgeting before you rip that pillow apart."

"Sorry," says Wonwoo, even if he doesn't really mean it. He examines himself in the mirror, looking a little wild-eyed and sleep-deprived, and not just from spending most of the past hour scuttling back and forth between rooms, madly rearranging furniture and squeezing his and Jihoon’s beds together to make sure they all fit. He’d thought about making a nest that would rival Junhui’s during his own heats, but he knows Soonyoung’s never really been the type to obsess over things like that when it’s his own. Junhui will take care of it, if he really wants to have a nest. He makes _really_ good nests, keeping the bed warm and toasty.

(Also, Jihoon would laugh and call him a romantic sucker if Wonwoo even attempted it, even if _he’s_ the one who’s basically preserving his non-existent ass virginity for his first time with his new boyfriend. Hypocrisy, thy name is Lee Jihoon.)

Junhui opens the door to their room, carrying an armload of extra pillows and blankets. “Soonyoung’s in the shower trying to cool down a bit,” says Junhui, cheerfully. He squints down at Jihoon, eyeing his boyfriend curiously. “Is that my jacket?”

Jihoon just grunts, neither a confirmation nor a denial, but it just makes Junhui look smug. He dumps everything he’s carrying on Jihoon’s side of the bed, before tossing one of the body pillows to Wonwoo. “He was getting a little too into humping this one, so I _had_ to coax him into the bathroom before he started climbing me like a tree.”

Wonwoo makes a strangled noise in his throat, and Jihoon puts the Switch down to give Wonwoo a disapproving look. “You’re looking a little off. Are you drooling?”

“No!” Wonwoo splutters, even as he itches to rub at his mouth. Jihoon doesn’t look like he believes him at all.

“Crazy eyes, Wonwoo. Turn it down a notch before you scare everyone off.” Wonwoo has half a mind to tell him to go fuck himself, but Jihoon beats him to it, eyes half-lidded and lips curling up in a satisfied smile. “We should work on loosening you up a little.”

“Really?” Wonwoo deadpans, looking at Junhui who’s digging through Jihoon’s closet for more blankets. “Right in front of your boyfriend?”

“It’s fine,” says Junhui, ears turning slightly pink. He has his back turned to them so he doesn’t really see Jihoon reaching out to stroke Wonwoo through his joggers, but from the deeper flush of his skin, right down to his nape, Wonwoo guesses his own hiss at the feel of Jihoon’s sole rubbing against his crotch isn’t as quiet as he thought it would be. “We talked about this.”

“You don’t have to just watch, you know,” says Jihoon, dismissively. He tugs the garter of Wonwoo’s bottoms down until the head of his cock slips out, already hard, and he lifts his other leg to trap Wonwoo between the arch of his feet, too lazy to sit up and use his hands or his mouth. Wonwoo doesn’t mind it, though, just groaning and fucking up into the tight, soft space.

“Yeah,” says Wonwoo, voice miraculously still coherent. “Jihoonie’s great at sucking dick.”

“I _know_ ,” says Junhui, sounding both flustered and indignant at the same time.

“So you guys are just gonna let me do all the work around here? Screw that,” Jihoon grunts out, brows knitted in concentration as he gives Wonwoo a footjob. Before Junhui can make a wounded noise in protest, though, he reaches up to prod at Wonwoo’s waist instead. “Get the lube in the drawer. I can take both of you, I think.”

Junhui drops the stack of socks in his hands, head turning so fast to look at Jihoon like he’s not quite sure what to make of it. The top of his head knocks against the closet door, but he looks more dazed at the prospect of fucking into Jihoon with Wonwoo _at the same time_ than anything else.

“You’ve got to stop killing me like this,” Junhui groans, standing up to pad over to them. Wonwoo’s too busy rifling through the drawers to look at them, but from the wet, smacking noise of lips against skin, he guesses they’re making googly-eyes at each other again. Ugh.

“Poor baby,” says Jihoon, laughing. Wonwoo turns back with the freshly stocked (obsessively so) KY jelly in the drawer, only to grimace at Junhui curling up against Jihoon by the headboard and stroking his head instead of the other way around. Spoiled. Jihoon’s always so spoiled. It’s no wonder he’s so bossy.

“I’m right here, you guys,” says Wonwoo, drily. He perches himself in the space between Jihoon’s parted legs, uncapping the bottle and squeezing a dollop over his fingers to warm the lube up. He smacks the underside of Jihoon’s left leg, hard enough to catch Jihoon’s attention, leaving a damp stain against Jihoon’s skin. “How are you not naked yet?”

“I’m perfectly comfortable where I am, thank you,” says Jihoon. Junhui bends and nuzzles his cheek against the top of Jihoon’s head, and Jihoon sags even more into his touch, a stark contrast to his belligerent tone.

“Up,” Junhui urges, patting Jihoon on the hip. “We’ve got about fifteen minutes before Soonyoung crawls out of the shower.”

“The things I do for love,” Jihoon sighs, lifting his hips up to let Wonwoo pull his shorts off and press a finger, slick with lube, against his rim. He tries to sit up to take his hoodie off, but Junhui pushes him down with a palm on his shoulder, a (slightly manic) gleam in his eye.

“Leave it on,” says Junhui. Then, almost shyly, he confesses, “I like it when you wear my clothes.”

Jihoon opens his mouth to say something probably equally soppy and damaging to Wonwoo’s brain cells, so Wonwoo cuts him off by pressing a finger into his pucker. At the ease it slips into Jihoon, Wonwoo raises an eyebrow, and Jihoon’s hand snakes down to grab Wonwoo’s wrist and guide more into him, deeper.

“Come on,” says Jihoon, impatiently. He bites his lip as he takes in another finger, eyelids fluttering with every thrust of Wonwoo’s fingers. “I’m ready. I’ve prepped myself the whole time you were pretending you weren’t having a mental breakdown.”

“And you _touched my Switch with those hands_?” Wonwoo splutters.

“I’ll buy you a new one, jeeze,” says JIhoon, rolling his eyes. He sits up and rocks back on Wonwoo’s fingers, letting out a shaky moan. “Junhui, come here. I want you to touch me.”

Junhui hesitates, but the whimper that escapes Jihoon’s throat at Wonwoo’s other hand palming his cock coaxes him closer. He places his palms on Jihoon’s waist, like he’s steadying himself, and swallows the lump in his throat as Jihoon grabs a fistful of his hair and kisses him, wet and open-mouthed.

It’s strange. Alphas don’t usually like sharing ruts with more than one partner, the territorial side of their baser instincts manifesting in less desirable ways, but there’s no threat of that in Wonwoo’s mind right now. He just wants to watch them all day, to dissect and scrutinize their every movement, the rutting, grinding motions of their bodies making Wonwoo feel impossibly hard, close to bursting.

“Holy shit,” says Junhui, closing his eyes and mouthing at Jihoon’s shoulder as he rubs up against the small of Jihoon’s back. Wonwoo can already smell the arousal on him, and if it weren’t for the telltale dampness of the sheets he’s sitting on, Junhui looks just like any other alpha about to stake his claim. “You feel so good, Jihoonie.”

“Wanna feel even better with you inside me,” Jihoon pants. He bucks up against Wonwoo’s rough palm tugging at his cock, spreading his legs a little wider and keening. “Jeon Wonwoo, you little shit—”

“Shh,” says Wonwoo. He noses at Jihoon’s neck, lips curving up into a smirk as he feels Jihoon’s pulse speed up. “I’m trying to make you come faster.”

“And _I’m_ trying to be romantic,” Jihoon complains. “Can’t you read the mood?”

“I’m gonna get into my rut soon,” says Wonwoo, solemnly. “There’s no such thing if I’m balls-deep in you already when that happens.”

He pulls his fingers out to squeeze Jihoon’s backside with his free hand, then uses the other one to spread his rim for Junhui. “Well?” Wonwoo asks, looking at Junhui. “Aren’t you gonna break him in?”

“What am I, a blushing virgin? There’s nothing to brea— _holy fucking shit_ ,” Jihoon groans, lurching forward into Wonwoo’s arms just as Junhui presses closer and pushes forward, entering him. His fingers scrabble at Wonwoo’s shoulders, and Wonwoo would be lying if he says he’s not at all affected by it. “Junniiiie.”

Junhui rocks his hips tentatively, and Jihoon keens and digs his nails deeper into the meat of Wonwoo’s muscles. “You feel so good,” Junhui sighs, sounding so awed and reverential despite the feverish flush across his entire body. He nuzzles his cheek against Jihoon’s nape, breathing in and panting out a litany of mumbled sweet nothings even as he fucks harder into Jihoon, making him cry out. “So, so good for me, so beautiful, so perfect, alpha, alpha, _alpha_ —"

Wonwoo would comment on the strangeness of an omega devouring an alpha exactly like he’s about to knot him — even if logically he knows it’s a biological impossibility— but he’s too engrossed watching JIhoon fall apart from being pleasured by someone else, rough, prickly defenses and snarky wisecracks completely lost in the face of lust. The sight of it makes Wonwoo feel light-headed, choked up, heat searing up into his throat and welling up in his belly. He’s so hard, he feels like he’s going to die if he doesn’t do anything about it.

Junhui doesn’t fend Wonwoo off when Wonwoo reaches around to touch his hip, stopping his thrusts. Thank god Junhui’s an omega, then, or else this would be much harder than it has to be. As it is, Jihoon only whines and rocks back on Junhui’s cock, greedy and impatient to the end.

“Calm down,” Wonwoo whispers to the shell of Jihoon’s ear. “You’re like an omega in heat.”

“Jun,” Jihoon just pants, eyes glazed and completely out of it. “Juuuun.”

Yeah, completely useless, that one. He pokes at Jihoon’s cheek, hard enough to snap him out of his sobbing, shaking trance and into one of irritation and annoyance.

“What?” Jihoon snaps, a glimmer of sobriety in his stroppy tone making Wonwoo chuckle, despite himself. “Wonwoo, if you’re cockblocking me just to be an asshole, I swear to god I’ll do everything in my power to keep Soonyoung from touching a hair on your body.”

God. Soonyoung. Wonwoo’s dick twitches at the reminder, and he has to take a shaky, fortifying breath just to keep himself from stalking over to the shower and just hiking Soonyoung up against the wall and—

Jihoon nips at his ear, making him wince. Right. Not the time for that, especially if he plans on working out a bit of the fight and aggression in him before he ruins the fantasy of a soft, gentle first time like what Junhui had been planning before Wonwoo completely fucked it up for him. He steals a glance at Junhui, who’s still got a tight grip on Jihoon’s waist, more engrossed in their newfound intimacy than mourning the loss of his romantic notions. He doesn’t look to be too bothered.

“Got room for one more?” Wonwoo asks, tracing his rim and adding his thumb to stretch him out a bit with more than just Junhui’s cock.

“Oh god,” says Jihoon, shuddering. “I feel so full already, I don’t know if I can take it.”

“Pretty sure Junhui’s not pulling out of you anytime soon. Right, Junhui?” Junhui growls, and Wonwoo takes it as a yes. “Let’s try it out? It won’t be too different than getting knotted, babe.”

“Okay,” says Jihoon, biting the inside of his cheek. He pushes Junhui until he’s lying back on the mattress, still joined together at the base. Jihoon’s practically riding him now, but he lies back on Junhui’s chest and spreads his legs wide for Wonwoo to settle himself between them, trapping him in between. “Let’s do it.”

Wonwoo thinks about reaching around for more lube to slick him up, but his fingers tentatively brush against the inside of Junhui’s soaked thighs, silently asking for permission. Junhui groans and cants his hips up, bucking up into Jihoon and making him sob at the force of the movement, and Wonwoo fingers Junhui’s wet rim leaking slick enough to stain the sheets. Omegas don’t really produce as much natural lubrication as they can when they’re in heat, but it’s enough for Wonwoo to scrape out and palm his cock to make the slide into Jihoon easier.

And anyway, there’s something hot about using Junhui’s wetness to fuck into Jihoon that the baser part of Wonwoo can’t explain. It just _is_.

“Here we go,” says Wonwoo, licking his lips, and eases the tip of his cock into Jihoon’s rim and pushes in.

It’s tighter inside Jihoon, Jihoon’s muscles clamping down around Wonwoo’s and Junhui’s cocks like his body doesn’t know if it wants them gone or if it wants to suck them in deeper, and it’s a credit to Jihoon’s flexibility that his legs don’t give out immediately. Trying to find a rhythm is a little awkward, but Junhui’s content to let Wonwoo take the lead, and soon Wonwoo’s tentative thrusts turn jerky, more frantic as he grinds into Jihoon’s wet, tight heat.

“I’m gonna go crazy,” Jihoon pants, head rolling and thrashing against Junhui’s chest. He lets out a stuttered gasp as Wonwoo pounds into him, looking completely wrecked. “ _Shit_ , Wonwoo—"

Junhui reaches around to wrap his hand around Jihoon’s cock, timing his pumps with each deep thrust Wonwoo makes. Jiihoon yelps, loud enough that Wonwoo’s _sure_ Soonyoung would have to be deaf to not hear it, and the only words out of his mouth the rest of the time are garbled amalgamations of Wonwoo and Junhui’s names, frantic and needy.

He doesn’t know how long it takes before any of them come, not with Wonwoo slipping in and out of hyperfocused rut mode with each delicious drag of his cock in and out of Jihoon, but when he comes back to lucidity, he’s collapsed into a sweaty heap on top of his bedmates, pulling out in time to keep from knotting Jihoon. They’re all covered in come and sweat, catching their breaths, and Wonwoo’s mildly distracted watching his and Junhui’s come ooze out of Jihoon through the gap that the shape of Wonwoo’s cock has left. Jihoon and Junhui are still tangled up in each other, Junhui keeping Jihon plugged up and stroking every inch of Jihoon’s skin he can touch, and JIhoon looks close to nodding off, blissfully fucked out and ready to pass out. Wonwoo feels kinda the same way, too.

His eyes flutter open, just as a disembodied voice breaks the wordless afterglow.

“Jeeze,” says Soonyoung, from where he’s hovering by the doorframe. “Couldn’t you guys keep it in your pants for a few more seconds? I’m feeling a little left out now, thanks.”

Jihoon rolls over, trapping Junhui under his weight. “Go get Wonwoo to fuck you,” says Jihoon, eyes closed. “I’m too tired to move.”

The look Soonyoung gives him is unreadable, and for a moment, Wonwoo thinks he’ll take it as his cue to leave, to shrug it off and tell them he’s actually got someone else to help him through his heat anyway, no thanks. Wonwoo steels his heart for it, tries to calm the quickening flutter of his heartbeat and the whining of a wolf, low in his belly, because he has to remember one important thing:

Soonyoung’s not here for him.

It’s a sobering thought, but the scent of Soonyoung’s heat, muted even through the cold shower— it still makes Wonwoo’s jaw clench and his fingers curl into a fist, wanting. And Soonyoung doesn’t look like he’s bothered at all, isn’t as self-conscious about the prospect as Wonwoo is, like the heat is just another chore like cleaning his room or doing the dishes that he’s saddled with for the day.

And Wonwoo’s fine with that. He is. He’ll take whatever he can get, now that this is happening.

“Fine,” Soonyoung sighs, stepping inside the room and shutting the door behind him. The door locks with a soft click, keeping him firmly trapped in. “Let’s get this over and done with.”

Wonwoo just smiles.


	17. (still) wonwoo

Soonyoung’s never been a quiet omega.

Wonwoo’s used to him being loud. He used to have long, screaming matches with his sister back when he was still living at home, and he always yells at their classmates at least a foot away instead of doing what any normal person in the hallway would do and just come up to them to steer clear of the wrath of the student council or any passing teachers. He whines at Wonwoo a lot when they’re in his room and he’s bored of watching Wonwoo play video games, and it’s second nature to him to shout out fanchants in the middle of watching a pre-recorded broadcast of some music show on TV while scaring the living daylights out of his cat.

He runs his mouth off when he’s nervous, when he’s scared, when he’s thinking about something and ultimately decided that he doesn’t want to think about it anymore. Small talk comes easy to him, unable to stew in silence around a room full of strangers and eager to make friends in uni and at group dates. At work, he’s out there drinking with his teammates and their boss with or without the incentive of someone else picking up the tab. And his arguments with Minghao or Chan— well, Wonwoo hasn’t seen it up close, but he’s heard enough stories to know that Soonyoung’s just as relentless and stubborn in work as he is in his personal life.

And Soonyoung in bed— god. He’s heard enough through the thin walls to last him a lifetime when he closes his eyes and thinks about what it would be like, to wrench those moans and gasps out of him first-hand instead of the illusion of Junhui’s fingers. His tongue. His cock. Enough. It’s enough.

It hasn’t prepared him for how quiet Soonyoung is now, though, like he’s not sure of what, exactly, he’s even doing hovering by the mattress. In all the time Wonwoo’s known him, Soonyoung’s anything but quiet, and watching Soonyoung pluck at the hem of his bath robe and fuss at his damp hair is unnerving.

It’s also making some damnable organ in Wonwoo’s chest squeeze with a feeling he doesn’t know if he would classify as fondness or—

Or something like regret, maybe. The thought is mildly depressing, and really, it’s only the sheer force of Wonwoo swallowing his pride and opting for brazen shamelessness (however fake it is) that makes Wonwoo keep his chin up and his eyes trained on Soonyoung.

“Are you just gonna stand there like an idiot?” Jihoon asks, sounding bored from his warm cocoon of blankets, head pillowed by Junhui’s thigh. He’s already gotten his rocks off when Junhui had jerked him off in time to Wonwoo’s getting the edge off while Soonyoung was in the shower, and now he’s a sleepy, lazy mess, sprawled on Junhui’s lap and being peppered with soft, adoring kisses like a cat being coddled and doted on to no end. He stretches his leg to nudge at Soonyoung’s hip, and Soonyoung scowls and scratches at the sole of his foot to tickle him in revenge. Soonyoung, predictably, gets a kick in retaliation. “Quit it!”

“I’m not the one going around calling people stupid,” Soonyoung complains, quick to snap out of the jumble of his thoughts. “Just for that, you’re not getting any orgasms out of me.”

“Don’t need it,” says Jihoon, smugly nuzzling at the hard planes of Junhui’s stomach and relishing in the hitch of Junhui’s breath at the press of Jihoon’s lips to his skin. “You’ll probably just bite my dick off if I let you anywhere near it.”

“Why is Junhui with you again?” Soonyoung despairs. “You won’t be able to keep up with Junhui with your stamina.”

“Bite me.”

“You wish,” says Soonyoung, and he sits on the edge of the mattress, toying with Jihoon’s toes just to be a shit. Despite the joking banter, Wonwoo knows he’s more nervous than he looks—he’s keeping at least a foot of space between him and Wonwoo, and it makes Wonwoo’s fingers twitch, itching to drag him by the back of his robe to close their distance.

Patience. Wonwoo needs to muster every ounce of it he’s been storing since day one, watching and waiting. No use in just pouncing and swallowing him up if he’ll get nothing else out of this, no. He looks at the soft, pale slope of Soonyoung’s nape, the scatter of tiny moles along the juncture of his neck and shoulder, and his mouth waters. Lots and lots of patience.

“Okay, I’m just gonna come out and day what it is everyone’s probably thinking,” says Soonyoung. He tugs at the back of his robe, still feeling antsy. “This is super weird.”

“It’s not so bad,” says Junhui, sneaking a look at Wonwoo. It looks mildly pitying, and it rankles at Wonwoo’s throat. “I’d say it was pretty fun for me.”

“Yeah, because you’ve fucked everyone in this room already,” says Soonyoung, bluntly. Jihoon throws a pillow at him in revenge.

“Then get around to making yourself comfortable,” says Jihoon. “Wonwoo can keep you occupied.”

“Don’t worry,” says Wonwoo, voice rough. He tries to muster a crooked smile, but it feels strange on his face, unreal. “I don’t bite.”

“Somehow, I don’t believe you,” says Soonyoung, drily. He loosens the knot on his robe, and Wonwoo finds himself horribly fascinated by the sliver of skin slowly being exposed as Soonyoung shrugs the robe off of his shoulders. His skin is splotchy and pink all over, like he’s holed himself up in the shower with the hot water turned up to the highest setting, but Wonwoo thinks it’s the heat that’s making him flushed all over, tender and blistering. He wants to kiss every inch of it, and then more. “Uh, I’m gonna need a little help for this.”

 _For what_ , Wonwoo wonders, but Junhui’s already peeling himself off Jihoon’s side, sending him a regretful smile despite Jihoon’s whine of protest. “Soonyoung takes a while to get wet,” says Junhui, giving Wonwoo a conspiratorial wink even as he pats Soonyoung’s ass. “It’s the only reason we still keep lube in our room.”

Wonwoo’s mouth remains open, slack-jawed. Soonyoung lets out a mortified wail and elbows Junhui’s side.

“ _Why would you tell them that_?” Soonyoung gripes.

“It’s useful information,” says Junhui. “Who knows when it’ll come in handy in the future?”

“You’re embarrassing and you and Jihoon clearly deserve each other,” Soonyoung mutters, but he lets Junhui maneuver him gently so he’s on all fours with a pillow propped up under him for support. His legs part easily for Junhui, and Wonwoo’s eyes remain fixed on the hardening nubs of his nipples peeking out from the V of his robe. The more dangerous alternative, of course, is Wonwoo’s brain wondering if it’s the same pillow he’s been humping in his own room earlier, but that train of thought leads to even worse thoughts, the visual of Soonyoung rutting against an inanimate object all too real at this point.

He’s so fixated that he almost misses Junhui clearing his throat and asking him to hand him the lube. Wonwoo manages to not completely fuck it up and just drops the bottle _once_ , and he can feel Junhui’s eyes laughing at him for being so flustered, the tables completely reversed now. Yeah, Junhui’s an asshole like that.

“Ow,” Soonyoung yelps, just as the bottle his his arm. “Are you trying to maim me, Wonwoo? Is this how you treat all your partners in bed?”

Wonwoo rolls his eyes, trying not to read too deeply into his careless words. “I don’t know,” says Wonwoo. “Why don’t you ask everyone else?”

Soonyoung bristles, but he’s stalled by Junhui touching the small of his back, making him shudder. One of his more sensitive spots, Wonwoo guesses. He’ll have to remember that for later.

Junhui knows him well enough to tell all his quirks, even more than Wonwoo knows about Soonyoung, even. It’s uncharted territory before now, and Wonwoo’s wading through it with one goal in mind. He’ll take whatever tidbits of information he can get.

“Soonyoung-ah, can you be a good boy and suck Wonwoo off for me?” Junhui coos, like he’s talking about something mundane like breakfast instead of _this_. “It’ll get you in the mood faster that way.”

“Seriously?” Soonyoung complains. “Do I really have to do this?”

“Would you rather suck Jihoonie’s dick, then?”

“No thanks,” Soonyoung and Jihoon chorus, making Junhui scrunch his nose up as he laughs.

Never mind. Junhui is his new favorite, Wonwoo thinks, throat constricting in anticipation as Soonyoung just pouts but doesn’t protest. He isn’t really used to seeing Soonyoung quick to acquiesce and be obedient, but whatever soft spot he’s been nursing for Junhui for a long time is at least working out in Wonwoo’s favor, even if it _does_ rankle a bit.

Wonwoo threads his fingers through his hair, just as Soonyoung crawls closer to his lap. “Don’t pull at my hair,” Soonyoung mutters, taking his eyes away from Wonwoo’s half-hard erection to scowl up at him, and the belligerent, stubborn set of his mouth just makes Wonwoo want to flip him over and wring out moan after moan instead of biting words out of his lips.

For now, he’ll have to be content putting that mouth to good use, just in case Soonyoung kicks his face and never lets him near him ever again. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he says, then thumbs at the corner of Soonyoung’s lips, relishing in the mixture of surprise and mutiny crossing Soonyoung’s face. “ _Babe_.”

“Moving onto pet names,” says JIhoon, smugly. “How cute.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

“Already got that out of the way, thanks,” Jihoon drawls out.

Soonyoung rolls his eyes, but he ignores Jihoon and braces his hands on Wonwoo’s kneecaps. His tongue peeks out of his small mouth, kittenish and coy, and the light kiss he presses against the tip of Wonwoo’s cock makes Wonwoo bite the inside of his cheek so hard he thinks it’ll blister and crack open. Soonyoung opens his mouth just a little to purse around the head, and Wonwoo has to stop himself from begging and fucking upwards into Soonyoung’s mouth.

“Cocktease,” he pants, gripping Soonyoung’s hair in warning.

“I know,” says Soonyoung, eyes half-lidded as he looks up at Wonwoo and continues to give him the tiniest of licks as his finger brushes lightly against Wonwoo’s length. “Why’d you think Junhui likes my blowjobs so much?”

He chooses mercy eventually, though, foregoing the feather-light touches to laving and sucking as much of Wonwoo’s cock as he can fit into his mouth. Wonwoo hisses, nails scraping against Soonyoung’s scalp, and he wants to close his eyes and just focus on the wet heat of Soonyoung’s mouth but he doesn’t want to miss devouring every tiny detail he can see. The bob of Soonyoung’s head, the way his muscles flex with every movement. How he reaches down to palm at his own dick through the hem of his robe. And through it all, Junhui praises him, telling him things like, _you’re so pretty when you’re like this, Soonyoung-ah, so good for me. You’re taking good care of Wonwoo right now, aren’t you? I’ll take care of you soon too, but first you have to make Wonwoo come. You can do that, right? Good boy, always a good, good boy_ , and whatever deity deigned to give Soonyoung a fucking praise kink, of all things, is one Wonwoo is hell-bent on finding and building an altar for in his next life when Soonyoung’s blowjob turns more enthusiastic, like he can’t get enough of Wonwoo’s taste in his mouth.

It’s this and Soonyoung giving up on touching himself and grinding against the pillow that sets Wonwoo off, orgasm cresting and knotting up tightly in the base of his stomach. “Gonna come,” he groans, squeezing Soonyoung’s shoulder in warning, but Soonyoung ignores him. Wonwoo’s hips buck up, and he spills into Soonyoung’s mouth, leaving streaks across his lips when Soonyoung can’t quite swallow everything up.

“Ugh,” says Soonyoung, rubbing his mouth with the back of his hand. “Didn’t you just come earlier? How’d you come that hard?”

“Wonwoo’s an alpha,” Junhui reminds him, stroking the small of his back. “They’re wired that way, especially when they’re in a rut.”

“Doesn’t look like he’s in a rut yet, though,” Soonyoung muses. To Wonwoo’s surprise, Soonyoung clambers up and over his lap to peer at his face, squishing his cheeks together. “He looks a lot more harmless than a scary alpha.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Wonwoo means to say it drily, but he’s probably got a dopy smile on his face now, loose-limbed and high from his orgasm, making it even more unbelievable. Soonyoung snorts, letting go of his cheeks long enough to pull away, but Wonwoo places his hands on his hips to keep him there, proprietary. Intent.

“What are you doing?” Soonyoung asks, voice low, just as Wonwoo leans forward and tilts his head up.

“What? You’re okay with giving me a blowjob but not a kiss?” Wonwoo asks, and Soonyoung wrinkles his nose. “Come on. Don’t be a baby.”

“You just came in my mouth!” Soonyoung splutters. “That’s like kissing your own dick!”

“So what? Are you that much of a prude, Soonyoung-ah?” Wonwoo says, then tries a different tactic when Soonyoung doesn’t look the least bit affected by his words. “Or are you just that bad at kissing that you don’t want me to find out?”

 _That_ triggers the competitiveness in Soonyoung, at least, and Wonwoo has to hide his smirk behind his poker face just to divert Soonyoung away from catching onto his strategy, however petty and childish it might be.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Soonyoung mutters, crossing his arms over his chest, but he quiets down and doesn’t jerk away when Wonwoo surges forward to kiss him.

It’s nothing but a chaste peck, really, just a brief press of their lips together, similar to all those times they had to kiss and make up when they were children and their parents thought it was cute and endearing to watch them both work up to placing kisses on each other’s cheeks. Soonyoung used to blush all the time and splutter when they teased him about it, but he’d always, always puffed his chest out afterwards and held onto Wonwoo’s hand, claiming it didn’t matter anyway because they were gonna be mated and married together when they grew up.

Look at them now, though, Wonwoo stealing scraps of affection where he can find it. He closes his eyes and tries to convince himself that this is real, that this is what Soonyoung wants, too. The tremble of Soonyoung’s lower lip underneath his makes his chest tighten and squeeze, like it’s close to bursting, and it’s getting a little hard to breathe, now. Like he’s got his head underwater and there’s no way back up.

He kisses him again, longer, this time, and it’s still there, that same feeling blooming in his chest, just like when they were kids. The kind where it feels like something’s just clicked into place, finally, after a long, long time. A forgotten memory. A promise that he can’t keep.

He doesn’t wanna think about it anymore, not like this.

He raises his hand to cup the back of Soonyoung’s neck, and Soonyoung makes a strangled sound at the back of his throat but he doesn’t protest when Wonwoo deepens the kiss. Soonyoung’s palms come up to rest on Wonwoo’s chest, curled up into fists like he doesn’t know if he wants to hold onto Wonwoo or punch him, but he _must_ like it when Wonwoo kisses him, if he doesn’t shove him away. If he opens his lips just a little wider to let Wonwoo’s tongue lick at the inside of his mouth, tasting salt and come and a faint hint of mouthwash in every crevice.

He must like it, if Wonwoo can smell the shift in his scent, a little sweeter, now. If the dampness that brushes against the inside of Wonwoo’s thigh is his wetness, instead of the sweat from their joined bodies. If he’s making the softest, whimpering noises at the back of his throat when Wonwoo grinds up against Soonyoung’s hardness, his own cock stirring with renewed interest.

Soft. Soonyoung’s so soft all over, and Wonwoo just wants to pick him apart, to eat him up until they’re just one, joined together in their most intimate places. His belly simmers. His fingers twitch. He licks into Soonyoung’s mouth, wanting to taste more, more, more.

He hitches Soonyoung’s legs up and around his waist, and pushes him down to lay on his back, impervious to Soonyoung’s yelp of surprise. “Wonwoo, what—” He stammers, and Wonwoo looms over him, panting.

There’s not too much of a difference between their bodies, not really. Soonyoung’s more fleshed out, less bony than Wonwoo, who’s all limbs and muscle, slender and lithe. But like this, Soonyoung looks much smaller under him, like Wonwoo can just wreck him with the slightest force, the smallest display of territoriality.

 _This is what it means to be an alpha_ , Wonwoo wants to tell him, in between sucking marks across Soonyoung’s jaw, his neck, his collarbones. His chest. Every part of him he can reach. He wants to swallow him whole, to never let him go.

Their parents used to muse that Wonwoo was too soft to be an alpha, that Soonyoung and his whimsical moods and trigger-hair temper made him more similar to an alpha. But they’re wrong, Wonwoo knows. They don’t know the kind of hunger that Wonwoo’s nursed, low in his stomach, every time he’s looked at the slope of Soonyoung’s throat, the juncture between his neck and shoulder. How he’s wanted to nose and bite into his flesh, enough to leave a bruise and break into the skin.

“Wonwoo,” Soonyoung whimpers, tangling his fingers through Wonwoo’s hair. Wonwoo grinds down, rubbing their erections together, a poor imitation of what he plans to do to Soonyoung later. “ _Ah_ —"

“Fuck, he’s really into it,” he thinks he hears Jihoon say, somewhere off to the side. “Good luck, Soonyoung-ah. It’s gonna be hard to stop him when he’s like that.”

“But he’s not ready yet!” Junhui says, sounding worried. His hand hovers somewhere near Wonwoo’s shoulder, but Wonwoo snarls, trying to cover Soonyoung up and away from anyone else. “Wonwoo-yah… stop it before you hurt Soonyoung!”

 _But I’m not hurting him_ , Wonwoo thinks, arms snaking up and around the back of Soonyoung’s head to cradle him close. He kisses him again, all teeth and tongue this time, and Soonyoung’s nails scrabble at his chest, his shoulders, his upper back. _I’m taking care of him like a good alpha._

Soonyoung’s wet, so wet Wonwoo’s cock slides easily against his backside, and Wonwoo’s head spins with desire, wanting to just fuck into him, balls-deep. It would be so easy to just put the tip in, wouldn’t it? And Soonyoung smells so good, so open, as hungry for Wonwoo as Wonwoo is for him that he’d probably cant his hips up and push back with just as much need. _I want you_ , Wonwoo mouths against the crack of his lips, parting to let Soonyoung breathe, ragged and winded, through the space between their mouths. _I want you so bad. So, so bad, I want you to want me too_.

“Wonwoo,” Soonyoung whispers, and Wonwoo closes his eyes, nosing at the column of his throat, tongue trailing down the slope, past his Adam’s apple, down to his clavicles, and—

Soonyoung lets out a sob, nothing like the lust-filled sounds he’s made for the past interminable minutes he’s held onto Wonwoo, tightly.

“Wonwoo, no,” says Soonyoung, and it’s the slightest hint of panic and fear in it that makes Wonwoo’s heart stutter, that douses his instinctual side with a bucketful of ice and brings him back to reality.

“Soonyoung-ah?” Wonwoo croaks out, confused. He noses blindly at Soonyoung’s neck, and then tilts his head up to pepper kisses at his jaw. His cheek. His mouth—

“No,” Soonyoung groans, tilting his head away from Wonwoo’s mouth, and something in Wonwoo’s stomach clenches up. _What if he hates it? What if he hates me?_ The thoughts spiral into Wonwoo’s mind, dampening his mood, and he can feel his belly swoop down until Soonyoung continues, out of breath and flustered. “Be careful, you idiot! You could have left the mark!”

 _The_ , not _a_ mark. He wants it. God, he wants it. Wonwoo doesn’t know if he should be relieved the only thing that seems to throw Soonyoung off is the prospect of a mating mark, but the irritation quickly rises in the absence of worry. “I wasn’t gonna!”

“Right,” says Jihoon, coughing as he rises from his comfortable spot to pull at Wonwoo’s arm. “Crazy eyes.”

Wonwoo bristles, but Jihoon can be stronger than him when he wants to be, pressing down hard on his shoulder until Wonwoo gives up and lifts his face up from Soonyoung’s. Junhui, on the other hand, is already cradling Soonyoung’s cheeks in his hands and cooing at them both, insensible nothings that do little to soothe the fire in Wonwoo’s belly until Jihoon reaches out again, nails scraping at Wonwoo’s shoulder and digging into his skin in warning. “Listen to Soonyoung, Wonwoo,” Jihoon whispers, lips feather-light to the shell of his ear. “You promised to be gentle, didn’t you?”

Wonwoo whines, low in his throat. Past-him is an idiot.

He pushes himself off of Soonyoung, curling on his side to sulk like a kid deprived of his favorite toy. He’s still smarting from the rejection, but he doesn’t shove Jihoon’s hands away when Jihoon strokes his side. His back. Jihoon’s knuckles dig into Wonwoo’s strained muscles, kneading like a cat, though it does little to relax Wonwoo, not when Soonyoung’s flushed, eager body is so close.

“You’re burning up,” says Junhui, quietly, as he touches Soonyoung’s face.

“ _Junhui_ ,” Soonyoung whimpers, feeling Junhui’s fingers against his lips. He opens his mouth and sucks on Junhui’s fingers obediently, and at Wonwoo’s sharp intake of breath, he spreads his legs just wide enough to show off the slick pooling between his thighs. "I want..." 

"I know, baby," says Junhui, thumbing at the corner of Soonyoung's mouth. "But you need to be good for me and let me take care of you first, okay?" 

“Okay,” Soonyoung mumbles, closing his eyes. Junhui uncaps the bottle of lube, squeezing a considerable helping on his fingertips, and he coaxes Soonyoung to scoot closer to him so he could finger him open.

He watches them kiss, Soonyoung opening up and unfolding under Junhui’s mouth as easily as he opens up for his fingers. The slide of Junhui’s fingers in and out of Soonyoung’s clenching hole is making Wonwoo’s mouth water again, his vision blurring at the edges. Even when he closes his eyes, he can still picture it, can still hear the obscene squealch of slick and their wet-open mouthed kisses, and from the hitch in Jihoon’s breath, he’s anything but indifferent now, too.

“Junhui,” Soonyoung wails, bucking his hips up and trying to get Junhui’s fingers deeper inside him in his impatience. “You’re too slow!”

“I’m doing this so you don’t get hurt later on,” Junhui chides him. ”You’ve never been with an alpha before, right?” Junhui looks at Wonwoo, eyes dark and promising. “I need to work you open so you can take Wonwoo’s knot.”

“I’m fine,” Soonyoung protests, squirming away from Junhui’s wet fingers. “I’m gonna die if I don’t get dicked down soon.”

“He’s as reckless as you are,” says Jihoon, drily, and pats Wonwoo’s hip. “Clearly, you two dumbasses are made for each other.” When Wonwoo doesn’t budge, he rolls his eyes and shoves him forward. “Go on. You heard him. Have fun living out your teenage fantasies.”

“ _Wonwoo_ ,” Soonyoung says, a hint of impatience and annoyance bleeding out into his tone. “Hurry up!”

When Soonyoung asks for it, how is Wonwoo supposed to say no? A happy rumble emerges from his throat as he settles between Soonyoung’s thighs, and the look Soonyoung gives him through half-lidded eyes is better than any wet dream he’s had since presenting.

“Hi,” Soonyoung says, softly, like he’s talking to a terrified animal. Wonwoo licks his lips, and he tries to take a picture of Soonyoung like this, flushed and rumpled and waiting for him, before the rut claims him again.

“Hey yourself,” says Wonwoo.

“Don’t make this weird again,” Soonyoung warns, and Wonwoo swallows the lump in his throat as Soonyoung hooks his ankles around Wonwoo’s waist and drags him in closer by his neck.

“I’m not,” says Wonwoo. He reaches out to steady Soonyoung’s balance, fingers resting tentatively on his bare knees. They’re still a little chafed, a little pink from when he’d gotten on his knees to suck Wonwoo off earlier, the quietest he’d gotten the whole night.

He thumbs at Soonyoung’s forehead, brushing his damp bangs away from the skin. Soonyoung wrinkles his nose but doesn’t shove him off, reaching up to grab at Wonwoo’s wrist instead and press a soft, fleeting kiss to his skin, right above his fluttering pulse.

They stare at each other for a moment, like a young couple at a loss for what to do the first time, and to their credit, Jihoon and Junhui make themselves as inconspicuous as possible, watching them from the corner, wrapped up in blankets and limbs tangled around each other.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Soonyoung mumbles. “It’s embarrassing.”

“How am I looking at you?”

“Like— I dunno,” says Soonyoung, turning redder. “Like you want to kiss me or something.”

“I—“ _want everything with you_ , “I want to kiss you right now.”

“Oh,” says Soonyoung, and Wonwoo comes closer, enough that his lips hover right above Soonyoung’s.

“Can I?”

“It’s _may_ , not _can_ ,” Soonyoung snarks, but loops his arms around Wonwoo’s neck and pulls him down for a kiss.

It’s crazy, how Soonyoung can drive him insane one moment and then make feel him boneless and fluttery all over the next. He sinks into the kiss easily, letting Soonyoung take the lead this time, and Wonwoo just rubs his palms along Soonyoung’s sides the whole time, tuning everything else out but Soonyoung’s mouth.

He can do this forever, forget his rut just so he could kiss Soonyoung all day, but Soonyoung whimpers and digs his heels into the small of Wonwoo’s back, heat getting the better of the soft moment. “Wonwoo-yah,” he whispers against Wonwoo’s lips. “I need—"

“I’m here,” Wonwoo promises. He reaches down to guide his length against Soonyoung’s rim, stomach clenching at the way Soonyoung’s pucker seems to clench around the tip. “I’ve got you.”

“Just—” Soonyoung tosses his head back, baring his throat as he groans. “Get in me already before I die from this heat.”

Well, if it’s a matter of life or death, of course Wonwoo has no choice but to fuck him. The crooked smile on his face eventually morphs into an ‘o’ as he pushes in, though, breaching Soonyoung’s insides for the first time. He’s hot and wet all over, so tight, and he’s clenching and clamping down on Wonwoo so hard with every inch Wonwoo gets in deeper, whimpering at the sensation of being filled.

“Won-Wonwoo,” Soonyoung keens, fingers scrabbling at his stomach and trying to spread his legs wider. “ _Ah_ —”

“So good,” Wonwoo pants, tucking his face into the crook of Soonyoung’s neck and shoulder. “It feels so good inside you, Soonyoung.”

He pulls out until he’s half-way inside Soonyoung, and rams back in with deep, long thrusts that make Soonyoung shake. He wants to rut and fuck and fill him up again and again if it means he can soak up every moan and whine of his name out of Soonyoung’s lips, naked desire and little else.

If they were mated, they could be like this forever. He’d take care of Soonyoung through all his infrequent heats and out of it, keeping him sated and knotted without needing anything else. He places a palm on Soonyoung’s belly, feeling his abdominal muscles clench. He could plant a pup in him too, maybe more than one if Soonyoung wanted— he’s always wanted a big family, right? At least one boy and another girl, and then even more so they don’t get lonely.

 _Baby_ , Wonwoo’s rut-addled brain latches onto the thought. _Baby, baby, baby, baby—_

“Soonyoung,” Wonwoo mouths against his shoulder, awe-struck and worshipful, belying the heady and frantic way he rocks into Soonyoung, chasing his peak. “ _Soonyoung_.”

Soonyoung cries out, squeezing around his cock as Wonwoo drives deeper into his body, and this is what it must feel like, to see clarity even through a rut. His grip on Soonyoung’s hip is near-bruising and he just wants to fuck up into him harder, faster, deeper, any way he can get him, to swallow him up and never let him go, but he has to catch himself and rein in the baser part of his instincts when Soonyoung's whimpers turn less aroused and more pained as Wonwoo’s hardness grows, building up to his knot.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" Junhui asks, pushing the damp strands of Soonyoung’s hair away from his face. Wonwoo has to bite down the urge to growl, low in his throat, and cover Soonyoung’s entire body away from anyone else again. "Does it hurt?" 

"Too much," Soonyoung mumbles, leaning into Junhui's touch even as his lower body keeps squeezing and clenching around Wonwoo's cock. "I can't—"

"If it hurts now, you're not gonna be able to take his knot," says Jihoon, looping his arms around Wonwoo's chest, as if he's trying to pry them apart. Wonwoo's line of sight flashes a little red at that, and it's only the soothing way Jihoon keeps rubbing concentric circles on his skin that keeps Wonwoo's chest from letting out a warning rumble. "You should have loosened him up more. I don't think he's wet enough for it."

Wonwoo briefly considers just staying inside Soonyoung, hard and pulsing for the interminable amount it takes to mold Soonyoung into his shape, but then he thinks about Jihoon's words and grudgingly eases himself away from the space between Soonyoung’s thighs. A trail of pre-come leaks out from where they're joined together, and Soonyoung's body shakes at the friction from Wonwoo's cock pulling out, the drag a delicious burn that makes Wonwoo’s head spin.

The respite is short-lived, though, and Soonyoung yelps in surprise just as Wonwoo pulls his hips up and presses his mouth to his rim, intent on fucking him with his tongue instead.

Eating Soonyoung out is a religious experience, Wonwoo thinks, hearing and feeling more than seeing Soonyoung fall apart under his mouth. He's closed his eyes to focus on the minute shifts and tension of Soonyoung's muscles, taking note of every sigh and stutter in his breath, the gasps turning into mangled, fervent prayers of Wonwoo's name. He's thrashing now, rocking his hips back to meet Wonwoo's mouth, and only Junhui holding him down keeps him from knocking someone out in the process.

Jihoon's hand fondling Soonyoung’s balls probably isn't helping matters, either.

"Your oral fixation is really something else," says Jihoon, whistling, like he isn't jerking Soonyoung off and making Soonyoung sob under the influx of sensations. "I was thinking of just using lube instead, but I guess your idea's a lot more fun."

Wonwoo licks at the slick oozing out of Soonyoung and replaces his tongue with his fingers instead so he can snark back at Jihoon, the broken moan Soonyoung lets out appeasing him, just a little. "I didn't hear you complaining every time."

Soonyoung doesn’t say anything for a while, too caught up in the fog of his heat and sensation of Wonwoo working him open. His fist clenches and unclenches around the sheets, hips rocking back against Wonwoo’s fingers, and he just breathes in and out, in and out, mouth forming what Wonwoo makes out to be the shape of his name.

When Wonwoo pulls away, he makes a distressed noise, sounding so wounded that it makes Wonwoo ache and itch to hold him. Junhui’s there to hold him up, though, whispering comforting, soothing words to the top of his head. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” says Junhui. “Wonwoo’s right here. He’s not gonna go anywhere. Right, Wonwoo?”

“Not if you didn’t want me to,” says Wonwoo, voice soft. He wipes the slick on his fingers on the sheets, flickering back into the softer part of his brain to keep Soonyoung content and appeased.

"Try getting on top of him this time," says Jihoon, eyelids half-lidded as he watches Junhui pull Soonyoung up and guide him to hover over Wonwoo's lap. "Wonwoo likes it when someone's riding his cock."

Soonyoung stops fussing when he settles into Wonwoo’s embrace, and he shakes as he sits on Wonwoo’s cock, slowly swallowing him up until he’s fully seated. The slide is easier, less visibly painful for Soonyoung, but Soonyoung still mutters something under his breath, sounding suspiciously like an apology, like it’s his fault.

“What’s wrong?” Wonwoo asks, breath hitching. “Why are you saying sorry?”

“I’m ruining everything, aren’t I?” Soonyoung mumbles, averting his eyes. He tucks his cheek against Wonwoo’s shoulder, clinging onto him. “Bet you never had an omega that couldn’t even let you get your rocks off without hitting the pause button everytime.”

Wonwoo doesn’t move, doesn’t tug at Soonyoung’s hair for attention. He doesn’t force Soonyoung to look at him either, content to let Soonyoung sniffle into his shoulder.

“I don’t care,” says Wonwoo, tightening his grip around him. “I just want you, Soonyoung-ah.”

“Yeah, well, you’re deranged and you have bad taste,” says Soonyoung, voice sounding wet, and he bites at Wonwoo’s shoulder, like he’s trying to break through the skin. “What kind of idiot even sleeps with an omega that used to think he was gonna be an alpha?”

“The same kind of idiot that didn’t care either way, I guess,” says Wonwoo, lightly. Soonyoung rubs at his eyes with the back of his hand, then tilts his head up to knock their foreheads together, hard enough to make Wonwoo wince but not enough to disorient him.

“Idiot,” Soonyoung repeats, and rocks his hips back experimentally. Wonwoo’s eyelids flutter, the knot in his stomach tightening and yelling at him to flip him over and pound into him, relentless and unyielding, but he only cradles Soonyoung and lets him set the pace.

The body is so, so honest, Wonwoo thinks. You can tell a person you don’t want anything except their body, or say one time is enough and never again, but the affection blooming in your chest, overpowering the thirst and hunger, is more telling than the canting of hips, the need to be joined together.

You don’t tell them you love them because you’re afraid of getting hurt, but you try to goad and provoke them out of pettiness just to make them feel a little bit more than indifference for you, the worst kind of inattention. You tell them they don’t stand a chance with pretty boy idols, with even prettier omega friends, and then you second-guess yourself when they reciprocate in turn. You fuck other people, you lie about not caring at all, you manipulate them into setting you up out of greed and dwindling patience, but when the ‘right’ moment comes, you fuck it up. You lie.

You don’t say things you mean and say most of the things you don’t. Or you leave bits and pieces out, enough to blur the lines between the truth and the little lies. You think you’re okay when you have them once, but anything after that is an abstraction you don’t want to think about.

You steal kisses you don’t know if you’ll get again. You try to leave any mark as proof that you were there once. You try to ruin and break everything, but when it comes to the slightest hint of vulnerability, the briefest twinge of a phantom ache, you cave.

 _I love you_ , he thinks. Mouths it against Soonyoung’s skin like it’s a secret he can’t bear to keep. _Please. Just let me love you for a little bit longer_.

It’s not Soonyoung’s muscles squeezing around him that makes his thrusts turn frantic, nor the delicious whines he wrenches out of Soonyoung’s mouth, no. It’s not the sweat-slickened slide of their skin that forms the base of Wonwoo’s knot, and it’s not the muted sounds of Jihoon and Junhui pleasuring each other in close proximity that makes Wonwoo come undone.

It’s when Soonyoung kisses him, lips cracked and trembling, that Wonwoo groans and spills his load inside Soonyoung, knotting them together for however long it takes. it's strangely chaste how they kiss without hunger, not when they're fucking like animals and following their instincts— a counterpoint to Wonwoo’s cock throbbing inside Soonyoung, keeping him plugged up. The kiss Soonyoung gives him is soft and uncertain in comparison, as if asking permission, and Wonwoo’s been ready to give it to him even without the question on the tip of Soonyoung’s tongue.

Soonyoung tilts his head to catch his breath, and they hold onto each other until Wonwoo’s knot loosens enough to separate them. He thinks about laying them both on their side, just to make it a little more comfortable for Soonyoung, but Soonyoung lets out a noise of protest and wraps his arms around Wonwoo tighter.

“Don’t,” says Soonyoung, so quietly Wonwoo has to strain his ears to hear him, like it’s paining him to say it out loud. He digs his heels into Wonwoo’s back, pressing them closer. “Stay inside just a bit longer.”

And Wonwoo does. It’s all he’s ever wanted to do for a long, long time.


	18. soonyoung

Everything’s fuzzy when Soonyoung wakes up.

For a moment, he’s not even sure if he’s still dreaming or completely awake. There’s at least five times over the course of the past couple of days that he’s fallen in and out of consciousness, getting fucked awake or blown until he comes, rough hands and wet, hot mouths milking come out of him until he’s dry and spent, completely fucked out. His lips feel cracked, his limbs ache all over. There’s a dull, throbbing pain at the base of his spine that he’s only gotten the last time he and Junhui attempted shower sex and he ended up nearly falling on his tailbone in the process, an entire week’s worth of pain in exchange for barely half an hour of unmuffled, heady fucking against the slippery wall. One day, he’s gonna die from having too much sex, and his roommates are the main culprits, he swears. They’re all so, so bad for him, and this is still a terrible idea, full stop, no questions asked.

Love is really gonna kill him one day.

He lifts his head up, still groggy, and manages to catch a peek of Jihoon fucking into Wonwoo, long, deep strokes that have Wonwoo snarling and grunting everytime Jihoon drives him deeper into the mattress, Wonwoo’s dick grinding against the mound of blankets he’s laying on. With his eerie sensitivity enhanced by the rut, Wonwoo's quicker to notice him than Jihoon. He meets his stare and whines, low in his throat, bucking into the nest and trying to crawl closer to Soonyoung, like his rut-addled brain is screaming at him to go to the only omega in the room, not when Junhui doesn't seem to be around. If not for the neckties haphazardly bound to his wrist, he probably would have dragged Soonyoung closer by now, but after the nth time he’d mounted and knotted them together, Soonyoung had tapped out and begged for rest, the kind that Wonwoo knee-deep in his rut would have been hard-pressed to give him willingly.

It’s one of Jihoon’s better ideas, tying Wonwoo up like this. From the pleading, hungry look on Wonwoo’s face, Soonyoung’s sure it will be harder to get out of his hold if he gives in.

He reaches around to touch the base of his spine, rubbing at the spot to work the kinks out. It’s still tender and sore, but not as much as his rim. When he traces a finger around his hole, he can’t help the wince of pain and the whimper he lets out, thighs jolting at the touch. It’s not bleeding, not yet, but nothing’s prepared him for the sensation of a real knot inside him, fucking and breeding until his legs give out; somewhere in between the haze of Wonwoo’s rut, he’d lost control over himself completely, gentleness absent in his hunger, like he was trying to swallow him up and eat him whole.

Not that Soonyoung had been complaining in that moment, panting and clenching around Wonwoo's knot as Junhui whispered encouragement and sweet nothings to him, keeping him anchored and less unsure around the unfamiliar sensation. How many times Wonwoo had knotted him, and it still felt strange, surreal. Wonwoo's breath against his ear made him shiver and shake more than the solid presence of his knot filling him up, the broken panting of his name making his cock twitch more than the feeling of being stretched out and plugged up full of come. Wonwoo's always had a sexy kind of voice, Soonyoung guesses.

He's just never really been on the receiving end of it until now.

At least he’s getting his comeuppance, Soonyoung thinks, baleful and satisfied at turns as he watches Wonwoo cry out, low voice hoarse and cracking under Jihoon’s intense thrusts. He stretches his limbs and turns over to lay on his back, touching his pebbling nipples and the soft planes of his stomach as he keeps his eyes trained on Wonwoo, and Wonwoo on his. He raises his knees and snakes a hand down to circle his hole with a tentative finger, all out of Wonwoo’s line of sight, but the whining sound Wonwoo lets out makes him bite his lip hard to keep from smiling.

“ _Fuck_ , Wonwoo, what the hell? You’re clenching up so tight, you’re gonna cut my dick off,” Jihoon groans, hips stuttering as Wonwoo grinds his hips back to meet his thrusts. He looks at Soonyoung, eyes narrowing as Soonyoung slowly jerks himself off. “Oh. You’re awake and being a cocktease already. Figures.”

Just to be belligerent, Soonyoung raises his hips up and wider apart, toes curling into the sheets as he lets out an exaggerated whimper that makes Wonwoo's eyes dilate. “Where’s Junhui?” He asks, lazily, watching Wonwoo lick his lips. 

“Getting breakfast for all of us,” says Jihoon. “And hopefully a ball gag for Wonwoo. He’s been worked up since he woke up.” He cards his fingers through Wonwoo’s scalp, pulling gently and relishing in Wonwoo’s hiss. “Should have known you’d be awake soon after, too. No fucking wonder he’s going crazy.”

“Omegas in heat tend to get that reaction from alphas,” says Soonyoung, voice raspy and barely recovering. “I’m surprised you’re not as affected by it.”

“You’re not in heat anymore. It broke last night, remember?” Jihoon asks, in between the loud, smacking noises of his thighs meeting the back of Wonwoo’s. Soonyoung has the vivid image of Wonwoo between his legs, fingering and eating him out again and again when the added lubrication of his slick stopped leaking out when his heat broke. “You should be thanking me for saving your ass.”

“From what?” Soonyoung asks. He rolls over to rest on his elbows, before crawling closer to Wonwoo to touch his jaw and rub under his chin. “From _this_ dork?”

Pupils blown wide and breathing turning more ragged, Wonwoo turns his head so he can nose at Soonyoung’s fingers, peppering messy kisses along the back of his hand, his knuckles, his joints. Soonyoung can’t help the hitch of his breath when Wonwoo greedily takes his fingers into his mouth and laves at his skin like he can’t bear to part with it.

What a kinky fucker, Soonyoung thinks. He shuffles closer, making a soft, shaky noise as his crotch ruts against the mattress, and Wonwoo’s mouth works harder, as if promising all the good things he could do to his cock and more.

That is, until Jihoon pulls him away.

“That _dork_ is an alpha not even anywhere near the end of his rut,” says Jihoon, gripping Wonwoo by the waist and dragging him back. “If we don’t fuck this out of him, he’s gonna mount you until he’s sure you smell completely like him and more.”

Wonwoo’s sweet, beckoning face turns mutinous, like he can’t decide if he wants to keep fucking back into the pleasure of Jihoon’s cock inside him or kicking him away for denying him of a toy. It bleeds into something more heartwrenching when Soonyoung tentatively pulls his hand away, keeping it fisted on his lap.

“What do you mean?” Soonyoung asks. He looks away from Wonwoo’s crushed expression, open and vulnerable like they’re teenagers again and Soonyoung’s just told him he’s probably never going to be interested in alphas, ever. “He just looks normal to me.”

“He’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing that wants to mate and breed you until it takes,” says Jihoon, gritting his teeth. Soonyoung snorts, biting back the bitter laugh that wells up in his throat as he thinks, _that’s not gonna happen_ , fingers curling into a fist at the reminder. "There's nothing on his mind but fucking right now."

It’s quiet after that save for heavy breathing and their groans, Jihoon’s thrusts faster now as he chases their orgasm. Wonwoo keeps grinding against the mattress, looking at Soonyoung the entire time and panting out his name, like it’s _him_ he wants to wreck, to mess up just like the sheets and the pillows scattered all over. If he were still in heat, Soonyoung would probably spread his legs and let him, but now all it does is make a lump form in Soonyoung’s throat and coax his legs to close, willing his hard-on away.

When he doesn’t seem to get what he wants, Wonwoo tugs his wrists away from the ties that bind him, growling. Jihoon clenches his jaw and snakes a hand around to tug at Wonwoo’s cock in time to their messy, unruly fucking to distract him, and it works for a moment, Wonwoo’s eyelids fluttering open and shut as he sucks in a deep, ragged breath. The combined sensation and the weight of Soonyoung’s gaze on him seems to tip Wonwoo over, making him spill his seed on the sheets as he comes, and it’s Soonyoung’s name he whispers, a flash of lucidity seeming to come over him in that brief, bare second, right before he closes his eyes again and gives into exhaustion.

He sags forward, chest heaving, and Soonyoung crawls forward to catch him, holding him close on his lap. Carefully, he pushes Wonwoo’s soaked bangs away from his forehead, wiping the sweat away from his skin. He feels more than hears Wonwoo’s sharp intake of breath as Soonyoung’s cool skin touches his over-heated skin, and it comes as no surprise to him when Wonwoo tries to catch his hand and trap it in place, as if trying to keep the coolness against his skin for a while longer.

When Wonwoo's breathing evens out, he tugs Soonyoung’s hand to his mouth, as if in a trance. Wonwoo’s lips purse around the skin on the inside of his wrist, sucking a bruise into it like a teething puppy, helpless and fixated. It makes something in Soonyoung’s throat catch, but he remains rooted in his spot instead of batting Wonwoo off with one of his usual complaints and moving away. Through it all, Jihoon watches them from the clean spot of the sheets he’s settled into to recover from his orgasm, looking so smug and thoughtful at the same time that Soonyoung's tempted to throw a pillow at him.

“Looks like I was right,” says Jihoon, chewing on his lower lip. “Alphas in a rut really can’t be left alone with unmated omegas.”

It's no wonder what Jihoon’s _really_ worried about; it's the only reason they're all here, really, though looking at Wonwoo's glazed eyes, his self-satisfied snuffling, Soonyoung should probably chalk Wonwoo's participation up as a tentative _maybe_. Out of all of them, Jihoon's the most terrified of losing control around Junhui, and Soonyoung can't blame him much. After the initial terror of Wonwoo's teeth lingering too closely to his skin, Soonyoung had seen the barest hint of panic in Jihoon's clenched fists. He'd known.

But this Wonwoo is safe and tame, docile now. There's nothing to worry about, Soonyoung thinks. He feels something in his chest clench and waver, tugging as Wonwoo noses at his fingers. No. Absolutely nothing.

“He’s harmless,” Soonyoung argues. “He can’t hurt me.” His eyes dart down to Wonwoo’s fingers twitching at his kneecaps, restricted from movement. “Look, his wrists are chafed now. You could have at least taken the knot off.”

He works at loosening the links of the ties around Wonwoo’s hands, and Wonwoo lets out a pleased humming noise, nose nuzzling at Soonyoung’s belly. The feel of his lips brushing lightly against the base of his stomach makes something inside him flutter, and his toes curl at the sensation. He lets Wonwoo press more kisses to his skin, reverential, almost. Soft and gentle, nothing like the wild-eyed Wonwoo hovering over and under him for the past few days, keeping him knotted up and filled up with his come.

Strange, how easy it is for Wonwoo to slip between those two moods. It must be the territorial instincts kicking up. He reaches down to ruffle the top of Wonwoo's head, bedhead and sex-rumpled hair making him look years younger than his actions and his scent belie.

Jihoon scoffs at them both, shaking his head, but he gets up from his cocoon of warmth to inch closer to them warily. “Now you’ve done it. He’s just pretending to look pitiful so you’d let your guard down long enough to him eat you up again.”

“You’re being paranoid.”

“Oh yeah?” Jihoon huffs. Eyes narrowing at the way Wonwoo is stroking Soonyoung's stomach now, he muses. “How many times have you done it without a condom?”

“I—" Soonyoung flushes, and Wonwoo lets out a rumbling noise at the back of his throat, though that’s probably only because Soonyoung’s stopped petting his hair. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Everything,” says Jihoon. He taps the side of his head. “I know how alphas think when they’re in a rut. He’ll keep you in a litter of pups if he has anything to say about it.”

“He’s not gonna get me pregnant that easily,” says Soonyoung, uneasily. He watches Wonwoo’s eyelids flicker open and shut, like he’s floating in and out of consciousness, hyperfocused on watching him speak but not registering anything they’re saying. “I’ve checked with a doctor a long time ago. I’m not gonna get knocked up from a one-time thing.”

“One-time thing, huh?” Jihoon muses. He reaches around to cup Wonwoo’s ears, as if to keep him from hearing anything else. Not like it matters, though— Soonyoung thinks Wonwoo’s so out of it he wouldn’t hear anything even if Soonyoung yelled it into his ear. “Is that what you want it to be?”

Soonyoung falls quiet, unsure of what to say. He touches Wonwoo’s cheek with the back of his hand, and Wonwoo sighs and relaxes into his touch, as if his knuckles are a comforting weight against his face. “It’s what Wonwoo wants, isn’t it?” Soonyoung says, keeping his eyes trained on Wonwoo’s face. He closes his eyes, and tries to muster the memory of Wonwoo’s impassive, unfeeling expression, then. Tries to remember how he’d wanted nothing more than to faze him, to cut through the cracks and get him to look anything but indifferent. He’s trying, and it feels nothing but bittersweet.

“Why’d you look you’re about to cry, then?” Jihoon points out.

“I’m not,” Soonyoung lies. He rubs a hand at his eyes, sniffling. “If you tell Wonwoo about this afterwards, I’m gonna punch you in the gut.”

“Wonwoo’s not gonna laugh at you for being emotional, if that’s what you’re afraid of.”

“I’m not afraid of Wonwoo laughing at me.” He fusses at Wonwoo’s rumpled hair, fidgeting. “He always laughs at me when I’m trying to be serious. If he weren’t so good-looking, I would have smacked him upside the head more times than I can count.”

“You already do that, actually.”

“Not enough, considering he keeps making fun of me all the time.”

“He’s not making fun of you to hurt you," says Jihoon, in a careful, measured tone. "You know that, right?”

For all that he and Jihoon bicker, he knows Jihoon's the one who'd tell him the truth as it is, less eager to keep the peace with a white lie like Junhui and likelier to say it straight than Wonwoo who was more prone to clamming up. It's enough to make the tension in Soonyoung’s shoulders ease, even just a little.

Wonwoo doesn't know the power he holds over him, to make him feel secure of himself in just a second, and then not at all the next. That's the scary part about knowing someone for a long time. Like tangled vines, they weave around each other under the sun; as easily as they flower, they trawl through uncharted territory as they chase towards light, more soil, anything to one-up the other.

It's a symbiotic existence Soonyoung doesn't quite know how to pin down.

“I know." He shakes his head, willing the thought away. "He’s a dumbass that doesn’t know how to ask for the things he wants, and that’s fine,” says Soonyoung, already feeling choked up. Like his mouth’s full of cotton. “Once is enough. We can’t afford to be selfish.”

In some distant future, he knows Wonwoo will find a pretty omega, one that’s picture-perfect, calm and sweet and doting in all the ways unlike Soonyoung, who’s a fuck-up half the time, a moody mess more often than not, prickly and quick to lose his temper at anything Wonwoo says or does that he doesn’t quite agree with. One who can balance him out and give him everything he wants— a couple of kids, one an alpha, maybe. A pet— a cat or a dog is fine, though Wonwoo’s always liked cats more. A warm, well-kept home to return to at the end of the day. Stability. Permanence.

A nest that doesn’t feel shoddy, half-assed. Someone who doesn’t sleep with omegas because no alpha in their right mind would want to mate without expectations for the future. For all that they act like they can’t stand each other half the time, Soonyoung knows one thing:

Wonwoo doesn’t deserve that.

“You—” Jihoon starts, then his expression turns a little gentle this time, the kind of face he makes when he’s in front of Junhui and hopelessly endeared. “You sound like you want to be just a little selfish, though.” Soonyoung’s shoulders stiffen, his lips curving down. “It’s love, isn’t it?”

“It’s Wonwoo,” he says, trying to keep the shakiness out of his voice. “I’ve known him for decades now. Of course I love him!”

“That’s not what I’m asking,” says Jihoon, throwing him an annoyed look. He licks his lips, keeping his stare fixed on Soonyoung’s face. “I’m asking if you’re _in_ love with him, even just a little.”

Is it love? The knot in his stomach, as tight and unyielding as Wonwoo’s own knot, heavy inside him — it’s not love, when he spreads his legs open for Wonwoo, when he fucks himself back on his cock, squeezing and clenching orgasm out of orgasm out of them both through the biological imperative of riding out their cycles. It’s not love, when he yanks at the back of Wonwoo’s head, when he gives him bruising kisses to stave the hunger. It’s sex, uncomplicated, unattached. Just that.

But maybe it _is_ love, when he feels his insides flutter at the lightest of kisses, the shortest of pecks. The wild, beating thing in his chest when Wonwoo nuzzles against him and covers him like a blanket, hesitant to let go. Maybe somewhere past counting on Junhui to talk him through this, to let him open him up and soothe him, he’d counted on the clasp of Wonwoos’ fingers with his own to anchor him, to keep him weighed down as they rocked together.

Maybe it’s not just sex, and it terrifies him.

Wonwoo makes a strange noise at the back of his throat, as if wanting Soonyoung’s attention back on him, all of it, and he only quiets down when Soonyoung caresses his forehead. The bridge of his nose. The side of his face. His neck. His collarbones. He lets Soonyoung’s knuckles rest against the base of his throat, and he breathes easier at the touch.

And suddenly, it’s clear to Soonyoung. He doesn’t know why he’d ever been confused before.

“Yeah,” says Soonyoung, softly. “I think I might be.”

He bends to press a quick kiss to Wonwoo’s brow, trying to escape the scrutiny of Jihoon’s gaze. As if sensing his distress, Wonwoo reaches up to grab the back of his neck and pull him back down until their lips touch, this time. Soft. Sweet. Anything but hurtful.

Soonyoung laces their free hands together, loose enough to hold him without keeping him in place. Wonwoo licks at the seams of his cracked lips, angling his head to deepen the kiss. He tightens his grip on Soonyoung’s hand and his nape, like he doesn’t want to let him go just yet.

It’s the alpha in him talking, the territoriality. The need to possess. And it’s the omega in Soonyoung that sings at the affection, the attention, the hunger. The want to curl up into Wonwoo’s warmth. Soonyoung can let him be selfish, just once. Once, and maybe never again.

It’s a promise.

Their lips part, and Wonwoo cracks an eye open at him, unreadable again, like he’s contemplating something. Clearer, now, absent of haze or feralness. Not even the sound of the front door opening and closing and Junhui calling out a cheery, _I’m home_ from the hallway makes Wonwoo flinch, keeping his eyes on Soonyoung the whole time.

“Don’t tell Wonwoo,” Soonyoung mumbles. He scratches his cheek, the awkwardness and embarrassment sinking into him just now.

“I don’t need to,” says Jihoon, swinging his legs over the mattress and shaking the stiffness of his limbs away as he gets out of bed. He works out the crick in his neck, not looking back at them. “You can tell him yourself.”

“What—” Soonyoung looks up at him in disbelief, only to squeak and fall against Wonwoo’s chest when he gets tugged down.

“Wanna know a secret, Soonyoung-ah?” Soonyoung hears Jihoon say, chuckling quietly without looking back. “Wonwoo hasn’t been in a rut since yesterday, too.”

Jihoon pads out of the room, shutting the door behind him, and Soonyoung jerks back at the sound, feeling self-conscious now that he and Wonwoo are alone for the first time in days. Wonwoo pulls him closer, though, keeps their limbs tangled around each other and cradles Soonyoung, chest to cheek, so close Soonyoung can hear the faintest beating of his heart under his ears. He keeps his eyes fixed firmly on Wonwoo’s body, embarrassment swallowing him up and keeping him from looking up.

“So,” says Wonwoo, voice low, rough. “What was that about being in love with me, Soonyoung-ah?”

“You—” Soonyoung splutters, red in the face and eyes flashing as he whips his head up and raises his fist. “You little assho—"

The words die in his mouth, muffled by Wonwoo’s lips on his again. Wonwoo drags him closer, cupping the back of his thighs so Soonyoung has to straddle his waist as he gets pulled forward, and the weight of Wonwoo’s half-hard cock under the swell of Soonyoung’s ass makes him clench up and shiver at their proximity.

“I’m glad,” Wonwoo whispers against his pout, and he’s laughing into the kiss now, like a little kid that’s just gotten the present he’s asked for all year on his birthday. “It’d make things awkward if you didn’t.”

“You’re already making this awkward,” Soonyoung wails, rolling off Wonwoo to hide his face into a pillow, a blanket, the sheets— anything to suffocate himself with. “I was just kissing you the whole time and you were pretending you weren’t even in your right mind, _jerkface_!”

“You held my hand, too,” says Wonwoo, sounding thrilled. He drapes himself over Soonyoung’s back, tucking his chin into the crook of Soonyoung’s neck and shoulder to press a kiss to his shoulder. His jaw. The shell of his ear. “And you called me good-looking.”

“I also said I wanted to hit you,” Soonyoung threatens. He doesn’t let go of the pillow at all, content to just bury himself in it and forget about the hard planes of Wonwoo’s body against him. How his touch makes Soonyoung’s skin heat up, like he hasn’t broken his heat just yet. “Don’t make me follow through on that.”

“You won’t,” says Wonwoo, smugly. “You love me.” And before Soonyoung can turn around and knee him in the balls, he rubs his palms against Soonyoung’s sides, making his breath hitch. “And I,” he says, leaning closer to kiss the bare spot of Soonyoung’s neck, right where he’d almost marked him before, “love you more.”

The fist in Soonyoung’s belly, swooping low and dreading the punch line for a while now, clenches and makes him ache even more. “You never said anything, though,” Soonyoung points out, voice muffled. “How long?”

“A long time now,” says Wonwoo. He cuddles up against Soonyoung’s cheek, like he’s trying to distract him in the face of saying something embarrassing.

“One year?” Soonyoung licks his lips, then turns his head to look at Wonwoo until their eyes meet. “Two?” Wonwoo’s face betrays nothing. “Three?”

“Longer,” says Wonwoo, bracing his hands on Soonyoung’s arms. “Since before.”

“Before what?” Soonyoung’s head feels like it’s spinning, hazy now. “Before we even roomed together? Before I slept with Junhui?”

“Before any of that,” says Wonwoo, cheeks and ears turning pink. “Don’t make me say it.”

“ _Wonwoo_.”

Wonwoo closes his eyes, like it pains him to say it. “Before I knew you were an omega. Before I became an alpha.” He presses their foreheads together, huffing against Soonyoung’s skin. “Since the first time we held hands, I just knew you were mine, and I was yours.”

“That’s—” Soonyoung gapes at him. “That’s a _really_ long time, Wonwoo.”

“I told you not to make me say it,” Wonwoo grumbles, nose scrunching up, making Soonyoung’s throat lock up. “It sounds really desperate when I say it out loud.”

 _Fuck_. That’s the most romantic thing he’s ever heard out of anyone’s mouth, full-stop, and it’s _Wonwoo_ , with his stupid, smarmy, handsome face that Soonyoung wants to kiss a lot, so he does exactly that. 

Wonwoo lets out a shaky exhale as Soonyoung twists his body under him until they’re pressed together, chest to chest. It’s easy for Soonyoung to loop his arms around the back of Wonwoo’s neck, to indulge him in more kisses, more soft nothings, more, more, _more_ , and even without the temptation of a heat, Soonyoung can feel himself melt into the touch, turning wetter with every nibble, every peck, every lick on each other’s skin.

"I don't want it to be a one-time thing," says Soonyoung when they break apart. Then, just to ease the gravity of the admission, he adds, "and I'm not just saying that because you're great in bed."

"Oh?" Wonwoo raises an eyebrow. "You think I'm good?" 

"Passable," says Soonyoung, and wheezes when Wonwoo tickles his sides. "Okay, fine, I'd let you knot me anytime if you asked nicely."

"What about right now, then?" Wonwoo challenges, grinding against him and making him bite the inside of his cheek to keep back the moan in his throat. "Or tomorrow? Next week?" He rolls his hips again, but there's a tentativeness in his movement now, a question on the tip of his tongue. "What about forever after that?" 

"Forever's a long time," says Soonyoung, quietly.

"That's fair," Wonwoo concedes. "We might end up strangling each other at some point." He pinches the soft skin at Soonyoung's waist, nails digging into his skin like he wants to mark him up all over. "You already drive me crazy as it is."

" _I_ drive you crazy?" Soonyoung repeats in disbelief.

"Always," says Wonwoo, and the scowl Soonyoung gives Wonwoo cracks soon enough, unable to keep up the pretense. Laughter bubbles in his throat, though, relief and happiness rolling into one, and it makes Wonwoo’s lips twitch, too, enough for them to chuckle and snort with every awkward fumble as their hands reach out to join together.

Hooking his ankles around Wonwoo's waist, Soonyoung drags him even closer, Wonwoo's shaky exhale making him preen.

“You owe me, like, a hundred orgasms from all that time we wasted," Soonyoung demands, aching limbs and exhaustion forgotten completely now. "No, wait— a thousand, at least! _Mmph_ —"

“Whatever you want, babe,” Wonwoo snorts, rolling his eyes; his voice is soft, though, impossibly fond and bleeding with want as he guides his cock back inside Soonyoung and spreads him open once more. “We can get started on that right now.” 

It’s the last thing Soonyoung hears before Wonwoo swallows the rest of his words with a kiss, intent on making him fall apart. Laughter bubbles in his throat, heart full of feeling and absent of the heaviness of doubt.

Maybe Soonyoung’s not as bad at this whole falling in love thing as he’d thought he’d be, he thinks, sinking into Wonwoo's kiss with a sigh. Maybe.


	19. junhui

Things are weird around the apartment the next few days.

For one thing, no one’s talking about what happened. It’s like the scant amount of time spent fucking out Soonyoung’s heat and Wonwoo’s rut is just some fever dream they’ve all dreamed up in extremely graphic detail, swept up with the hours they spent cleaning up the aftermath of how many days of sex, aired out and shoved in the washer to wipe out all traces of its existence. The tension still lingers, haunting, like a ghost.

On one hand, it’s what they’d all agreed to in the beginning. On the other hand, it’s like they’re back in relationship limbo, except it’s _worse_ , because Junhui can _hear_ Soonyoung’s breathy exhale when they’re all in the living room watching late night TV and they think Jihoon and Junhui are sleeping. Wonwoo might have been getting him off with a quick handjob, or he could have already been fingering him under the blankets— who knows? Junhui’s already overactive imagination fills in the blanks for him, and it takes all of his willpower not to whine and rut against Jihoon’s sleeping form whenever it happens.

There’s no sense in sneaking around, not after Junhui’s watched Wonwoo knot him how many times already that it’s permanently seared into his brain and useful for masturbation fodder in the future. But maybe they like the idea of keeping things a secret, Junhui thinks. Maybe they get off on faking they’re not really mated, even if everyone already knows it. Masochists.

He makes it a point to keep his eyes peeled on both of them, to the point that Wonwoo complains it’s unnerving and Soonyoung constantly asks him if he’s just hungry. It’s honestly killing Junhui more than it seems to be bothering either of them, but that’s only because all the heated looks and the enduring silence is really making Junhui way too invested, like he’s only on episode sixteen of a twenty-part drama and the couple haven’t even confessed to each other even after sleeping together repeatedly. Oh, and horny, too. Really, _really_ fucking horny. He’d let Jihoon take care of it, but Jihoon’s been tired a lot lately, like the whole experience has taken out the last shred of energy he’d been storing up until his own cycle, and now he just wants to cuddle and sleep and maybe laugh at Soonyoung and Wonwoo in the process, too.

This cat and mouse game honestly sucks.

Jihoon keeps telling him he’s probably just imagining things, but Junhui knows— he can feel it in his gut, tiny prickles of anticipation piercing his insides whenever they’re all in the same room together and they're hovering somewhere close to each other. Junhui can see it all, the heavy-lidded gaze Wonwoo gives the nape of Soonyoung’s neck, the dip of his shoulder. The fidgety, distracted way Soonyoung keeps touching the base of his throat, scratching at a fading bruise from not so long ago.

Whatever territoriality Wonwoo’s exuded in the past, it’s seemingly absent now, Wonwoo preferring to retreat than goad Soonyoung, again and again. Even now, there’s nothing but a respectable distance between them, Wonwoo sitting on the dining chair and Soonyoung perched on the counter a couple of feet away across him. They don’t look at each other with soppy heart eyes or hold hands like Junhui expects them to, and if he weren’t there to witness Wonwoo fucking Soonyoung into the mattress repeatedly, he wouldn’t think they’d ever even touched each other in a non-platonic way.

Part of Junhui thinks it’s just them being way too repressed about everything. Another part wonders if maybe— just maybe— Wonwoo’s just biding his time, waiting for Soonyoung to make a move first. It definitely sounds like him, at least.

Or maybe— just maybe— it’s because he can breathe a little easier around him now. Maybe.

Soonyoung’s changing a little, though, even if he doesn’t seem to realize it himself. He looks at Wonwoo now like he’s trying to read everything about him, like Wonwoo’s this new, shiny thing he’s just discovered instead of ignored for a better part of the time. Wonwoo staring is nothing new, but Soonyoung’s doing it with increasing frequency, so much so that Jihoon keeps scrunching his nose up when he catches one or the other doing it when they’re all in the living room unwinding after work with fast food and beer; it doesn’t stop him from propping his feet up on Wonwoo’s legs and stretching as he settles back into Junhui’s side, and Junhui’s honestly expecting Soonyoung to throw a pillow (or worse, a hardbound book) at Jihoon for it, so he’s kind of working on trying to diffuse the tension with jokes and small talk to distract all of them from accidentally killing each other in the process of figuring things out.

Funny how Soonyoung’s so gung-ho about teasing them all the time, but now that he’s on the receiving end of it, he’s the one that gets embarrassed the most. If he can just be a _little_ more honest outside of bed, then Junhui knows it’s all going to be fine. The romantic in Junhui was expecting to see bubbles of romance and flower petals sprouting in the background every day, but the closest he even gets to it is Wonwoo dumping a handful of confetti on Soonyoung’s head without getting elbowed or stepped on in retaliation.

If that’s not a sign of love, though, Junhui doesn’t know what is.

Right now, Soonyoung’s roped them all into helping cut up art paper for Soonyoung’s niece’s birthday party while he works on the banner, but at least they’ve moved on from trying to convince him _not_ to attempt baking cupcakes and foisted the task onto other people’s more capable hands. “No three-year-old deserves burnt cupcakes,” Jihoon had proclaimed, then tugged on his shoes and gave Junhui a quick peck goodbye as he escaped to go to the nearest cupcake place a few stations away, abandoning Junhui to the constant tiptoeing and the awkwardness.

 _Traitor_ , he texts Jihoon, fingers already numb from handling scissors all afternoon. Jihoon just sends him a picture of the cupcake display, and then a short video recording of him licking up the frosting from a vanilla cupcake in response. Clearly, love is dead.

He plays and replays the video, going nearly cross-eyed as he tries to zoom in on the hint of Jihoon’s tongue, pink and coated with white frosting as he closes his eyes in bliss. There are few things that could make Jihoon look this happy, and food’s always enough to bring out his cute side without him realizing it.

Oh, and apparently blowing Junhui’s brains out in bed, but that thought’s dangerous to tread on— he crosses his legs together and tries to flush out the memory of Wonwoo spreading Jihoon apart, all for Junhui to take. He wouldn’t mind a repeat performance soon, but work and adulting’s spreading them too thin lately that he’s lucky if Jihoon even manages to crawl into the sofa with him before midnight instead of falling asleep on the kitchen table, snoring.

Soonyoung’s heading over to his sister’s place for the party tomorrow, though, and he’s dragging Wonwoo along with him, so at least Junhui can sneak a bit of time coaxing Jihoon to bed for more than just sleeping while they’re both out. Soonyoung had extended the invitation to the rest of them too, but from the look Wonwoo had given them over dinner yesterday, Junhui had shoved a dumpling into Jihoon’s mouth and politely declined before Jihoon could purposely annoy Wonwoo and rile him up.

Payback for being a manipulative little shit, Jihoon likes to say, even if technically he’s always the first to go along with Wonwoo’s schemes. He’s just as bad at saying no as Junhui is, no matter how stubborn and solid he likes to appear he is.

(Junhui’s counting on that same soft spot to convince Jihoon to let him dress him up next time. He’s already ordered a virgin killing sweater off online, and he adamantly refuses to be embarrassed by Soonyoung’s low whistle when he’d seen his browsing history. In his defense, he’s a simple man with simple needs that can be readily answered by a night spent in between Jihoon’s legs and more; if Jihoon knows the power he has over him simply by existing and showing off a bit of skin, well. Junhui’s happy to be fucked, in every sense of the word. He’s not complaining.)

“Stop getting distracted,” says Wonwoo, kicking his ankle under the table. Junhui blinks away the mental image of Jihoon fucking in nothing but a knitted sweater hanging low over his frame and rubbing up against Junhui’s skin when he bends over to whisper sweet nothings to his ear, the thought dispelled by Wonwoo clicking his tongue in disapproval. “You’re gonna stab yourself with a pair of scissors at this rate. What, did Jihoon send you a sext or something?”

“He hasn’t!” Junhui protests, feeling his face and neck heat up all over. At Wonwoo’s mistrusting gaze, he picks up another piece of paper and starts folding it into tiny pieces. “I swear!”

“You already smell funny,” says Wonwoo, sniffing. He narrows his eyes at Junhui, then smirk. “Is Jihoon not putting out, or something?”

“Or something,” Junhui agrees, then kicks Wonwoo back and manages to land a good one on his knee. “Mind your own business.”

“I’ve seen you naked multiple times and in multiple positions,” says Wonwoo, loftily. “I don’t think there’s anything else we have to hide from each other.”

“Oh?” Junhui raises an eyebrow, then nods at the back of Soonyoung’s head, bent over a cartolina armed with glue and glitter with what looks like stolen headphones from Jihoon perched over his ears. “What about _that_ one? Got anything to confess to his entire family when you head up there?”

As if on cue, Wonwoo’s ears turn pink and his eyes dart away from Junhui’s. “Shut up and go back to cutting.”

“No way,” says Junhui. “I’ve been good about keeping quiet for a while now, but seriously— what are you gonna do? Are you gonna tell them you’re together now?” He props his chin on his palms, sighing. “It’s gonna be a downgrade coming from _me_ , after all.”

“Do they even know you exist?”

“Of course they do!” Junhui huffs. “Soonyoung’s mother and older sister are perfectly charming people, even if they still think I’m a beta until now.”

“Right,” says Wonwoo, sounding skeptical. His fingers fuss at a misaligned crease on the bright yellow paper in his hands, then says, very quietly, “I’m not going to the party with him.”

“What?”

“I’m just gonna help him drop off some stuff, then I’m swinging by my parents’ place and coming back,” says Wonwoo, shrugging. “It’s what Soonyoung wants.”

“But—” Junhui splutters, at a loss for words. “But you’re mated already, aren’t you?”

Wonwoo rolls his eyes. “No, we’re not.” He reaches over for a bead on the craft box, then throws it at Soonyoung’s shoulder to get his attention long enough for him to take off his headphones. “Soonyoung, tell Junhui we’re not mated.”

“We’re not mated,” Soonyoung repeats dutifully. He scratches at his nape, leaving specks of glitter all over his skin. “No mating mark, last time I checked.”

“There,” says Wonwoo, leveling Junhui a _look_. “Happy now?”

“But that doesn’t make sense,” Junhui protests. “Weren’t you guys planning on mating?”

“Wasn’t that you?” Wonwoo says, scathingly, just as Soonyoung tilts his head to the side and furrows his brow.

“Mating?” Soonyoung asks. “Who said anything about mating with Wonwoo?”

Apparently not Soonyoung, if his confused expression is any indication of it. Sneaking a look at Wonwoo, Junhui almost wishes he hadn’t brought anything up. “Uh.”

“We’re taking it slow,” says Wonwoo, calmly, even if he looks like this is a conversation he’s hashed and rehashed in his head hundreds of times and still doesn’t know why he’s even advocating for it. “Soonyoung thinks we should date first.”

“I don’t put out until after the third date,” says Soonyoung, solemnly, just as he walks over to them and takes the empty chair beside Wonwoo. Wonwoo, either subconsciously or not, moves his chair closer, the scrape of the legs against the tiles making Junhui wince. He gets glitter all over the surface of the table when he leans against it on his elbows, but Wonwoo just lifts his arms up and places a piece of art paper underneath to catch the rest of the glitter, making Soonyoung beam at him and bump their shoulders together. “Thanks, babe.”

“You slept together already,” Junhui points out. “You slept with _me_ after the first!”

“You’re a very convincing exception to the rule,” Soonyoung reasons, reaching out to pinch Junhui’s cheeks. “How can anyone not drop their pants at this face?”

“Apparently Jihoon’s self-control is something else,” says Wonwoo. He doesn’t look the tiniest bit jealous when Soonyoung leaves a wet, smacking kiss on Junhui’s perplexed brow, something Junhui has to remember to shelve for future reference. Rapping his knuckles against the base of Soonyoung’s spine to catch his attention, he points at the abandoned banner on the floor. “You should go back to finishing up Haerin’s sign. It’s gonna take hours to let all that glue dry.”

Soonyoung grumbles under his breath but goes back to his handiwork, shoving Jihoon’s headphones back on and leaving enough glitter on the black plastic that it makes Junhui internally cringe and resolve to gift Jihoon with a very nice early monthsary present to keep him from noticing. He’s coming up with a quick shortlist of all the shops he knows Jihoon favors when he’s interrupted by Wonwoo clearing his throat, looking decidedly uncomfortable.

“Look, I know you’re only asking because you care about us, but it’s not as bad as you think,” says Wonwoo. He reaches out to touch the back of Junhui’s hand, thumb rubbing against his knuckles in comfort. “We’re figuring things out at our own pace. It’s fine. If I’ve waited for a long time, what’s a few more, right?”

“What if it ends up taking months?” Junhui aks, voice hushed. “Years, even?”

Wonwoo closes his eyes, then exhales. “I’m hoping it doesn’t have to come to that, but knowing how stubborn and hard-headed he can be about change, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

He picks up the art paper Soonyoung’s made a mess of and starts folding it up. “Which reminds me— I’m gonna need to ask for your help again next time his heat comes up. He’s still got separation issues, that one.” Wonwoo scrunches up his nose in distaste. “I think he just doesn’t wanna get knotted without someone to hold his hand through it again.”

Junhui looks down at his phone, absent of other messages from Jihoon. He thinks about that night they’d talked about being with other people, thinks about the cutting, knee-jerk fear of not being enough, and he wonders if Wonwoo feels that, too, deeply. If it were with other people, would they understand? Would they be fine leaving it alone?

“And you’re okay with this?” Junhui asks, unconvinced.

Wonwoo drums his fingers against the paper, lips pursed into a thin line. He looks like he’s thinking deeply about what he should or shouldn’t say, just in case there are some things he voices aloud that are better off left in his head.

“I get to keep him,” says Wonwoo, after a while. “Isn’t that enough?”


	20. jihoon

It ends with the couch getting thrown out.

Well, no, that’s not completely right; Jihoon attempts to foist the couch off to Seungcheol, who’d balked and threatened the end of their friendship if he had to touch any part of their couch, not when it’s seen the horrors of how many people spilling questionable substances on it, sexual or otherwise. “You’ve been fucking Wonwoo on that couch for months,” says Seungcheol, staring at him with dead eyes as Jihoon tentatively brings it up over brunch. “What makes you think I even wanna sit on it at this point?”

“I haven’t fucked Wonwoo in months,” Jihoon lies. Then, after a beat, he adds, “We’ve disinfected it already.”

“No amount of sanitation is going to convince me to take it in,” says Seungcheol, shaking his head.

“Not even if Jeonghan or Jisoo want it?”

“ _Especially_ if they want it,” says Seungcheol, making a disgruntled face.

In the end, Chan ends up inheriting the couch, if only because Soonyoung managed to mention in passing that Chan's planning on moving into an unfurnished apartment soon and will take anything he can get for free. None of them, wisely, mention anything they’ve done on the couch in the time they’d spent screwing around on it, but even if they did, beggars can’t be choosers, right?

“Who knows where your asses have been on this couch?” Minghao grunts, glaring at Soonyoung and Junhui as he helps lug the couch out of the apartment. Well, less at Junhui and more at Soonyoung, who’s taken to throwing his entire weight on it and barking orders at his roommates and co-workers while they try to bring it out of the apartment and down in one piece. “I vote we just take this for recycling and get it over and done with. I’ll pay for the fees.”

“Furniture’s so expensive,” Chan despairs. “At least let me wait for our bonus before we trash it, okay?”

“I’ll buy you one,” says Minghao.

“You don’t even wanna buy me coffee at work,” Chan points out.

“Let’s just burn it,” Minghao begs. “ _Please_.”

“No one’s burning the couch,” says Junhui, surprisingly. He pats the edge of the sofa, like he’s rubbing an abrasive cat or a moody Soonyoung sulking. “I have a lot of fond memories on this couch.”

“Gross,” Chan gags, turning to face Minghao. “You’re right. Let’s burn it.”

Hours later, after the couch has been moved into Chan’s place and Chan’s (grudgingly) treated them to fried chicken and soda, Jihoon bumps shoulders with Junhui on the floor of their apartment and waits for him to loop an arm around his waist before speaking up.

“If you really wanted to keep the couch, we could have done it,” says Jihoon, quietly.

Junhui shrugs, focusing his attention all on Jihoon instead of the (pirated) subbed copy of the latest Puella Magi Madoka Magica movie on TV. “It’s fine,” says Junhui. “It’s a good excuse to go shopping for furniture that we actually picked out together.” The corner of his lips twitches upward, teasing. “We can even hold hands like one of those married couples on the TV ads.”

“Don’t we already do that?” Jihoon says, drily.

“I like holding your hand all the time,” says Junhui, beaming.

“Can everyone please shut up and stop flirting,” says Wonwoo. He throws a handful of popcorn at them from where he’s lazily propped up against the makeshift nest Junhui’s patched up together for all of them in the living room, a pillowfort tentatively set up in the absence of actual seats. “I’m trying to focus on prepubescent girls having an existential crisis here.”

Soonyoung scoffs, kicking at him from behind. “You’ve been fondling my ass for the past ten minutes,” says Soonyoung. “I don’t think you have any credibility to talk.”

Jihoon turns the volume up, muting the incoming bickering; even after settling into something short of an actual mating, Wonwoo and Soonyoung are still the same, arguing and goading each other whenever they can. Sure, the times Wonwoo’s switched rooms with Junhui have been increasing in frequency, but their routines have stayed fairly constant otherwise. Wonwoo still prefers playing games or watching movies with Jihoon, and Soonyoung still drags Junhui out for drinks with Minghao and Chan whenever they’re free, but there’s lesser instances of the old tension cropping up. The ache.

It’s a little easier now, he thinks.

He feels more than sees Junhui playing with the strands of hair just above his nape, massaging at his scalp the way he does when he’s trying to lull Jihoon to sleep. Jihoon doesn’t even notice that he’s pressed his cheek against Junhui’s arm now, letting Junhui’s scent and the warm weight of his skin surround him. This, too, has changed, Jihoon admittedly more relaxed and willing to indulge in skinship beyond the privacy of their own room. He doesn’t even mind it so much when Soonyoung gives him a filthy smirk, partly because he’s learned, over time, that it’s always best to just ignore Soonyoung when he’s trying to prove a point, but mostly it’s because he’s comfortable now, less on edge about everything he feels about Junhui, or Wonwoo, or even Soonyoung.

“Aww, looks like he’s sleepy already,” says Soonyoung, voice sticky-sweet and teasing, always full of sheet. “Maybe you should tuck him into bed already, Junnie.”

“Fuck you,” says Jihoon, eyes closed. He raises a well-chosen finger at Soonyoung’s direction, and Soonyoung laughs, ever eager to get under anyone’s skin. Only masochists and idiots can stand him, and maybe Jihoon’s an idiot too, if he hasn’t strangled Soonyoung yet at this point.

It’s a tempting thought, especially when they’re doing grocery shopping and Soonyoung keeps trying to climb the carts like he’s five years old instead of a responsible, tax-paying adult, Wonwoo shaking his head and clutching the grocery list in his hands and Junhui shrugging and pushing the cart anyway. They’re too indulgent with him, really.

Still, he doesn’t bare his teeth or growl when Soonyoung scrambles over to pet the top of his head curiously. It’s like ever since Soonyoung’s seen him naked, he feels like he has a free license to touch Jihoon any way he wants, trying out things that Jihoon would let Junhui (and maybe Wonwoo, if he were hard-pressed to admit it) do otherwise, poking his head into anything and everything like a nosy cat. Like Jihoon is harmless and not some scary alpha that could rear his head back and just bite him, so close to his rut.

Like Wonwoo’s not there watching him carefully, too.

“Stop annoying him, Soonyoung-ah,” says Wonwoo, voice rough with _something_. It’s pointed enough that it’s a warning, but it’s not territorial, not aggressive. Just. Dangerous. “You know Jihoon’s extra-sensitive when he’s about to go into a rut.”

“ _Please_ ,” Soonyoung scoffs. “You alphas are nothing but kittens when you’re in a rut.” He pulls away, at least, but he sags against Junhui’s other side instead of retreating fully. “I can take him.”

“I don’t doubt that,” says Junhui, calmly. “You’re very flexible.”

“See? Even Junhui agrees,” says Soonyoung, sounding satisfied. He nuzzles against the curve of Junhui’s neck and shoulder, pressing his face into it like a particularly excited cat. “You smell really good, Junhui.”

“I smell like sweat and takeout,” says Junhui.

“You’re probably smelling Jihoon,” says Wonwoo.

“Ew,” says Soonyoung, wrinkling his nose and pulling away, appalled. He scoots back and settles against Wonwoo instead, scowling. “I take it back. It’s the worst.”

“ _You’re_ the worst,” Jihoon grumbles, but quiets down when Junhui strokes the back of his neck, making him shudder and sink into the touch.

“Amazing,” says Soonyoung. “You wouldn’t even be able to tell he’s about to go into a rut soon. Are you sure he’s an alpha, Junhui?”

“Positive,” says Junhui. “I’ve seen his knot already.”

“What knot?” Soonyoung scoffs. “He’s taken it up the ass more times than I have already.”

“Just because I like getting fucked doesn’t mean I can’t knot someone,” says Jihoon. “It just means I’m comfortable enough with my body to ask for the things I want.”

 _Unlike some people_ , he tries to channel into his words, but subtlety is an art form completely lost to Soonyoung, who just grins and props his chin on his hands, leering.

“Oh yeah?” Soonyoung purrs. “Why don’t you show me, then?”

“Ignore him,” says Wonwoo, rolling his eyes and smacking Soonyoung upside the head. “He’s just pissed we kept getting interrupted at his parents’ house.”

“It’s like I’m fifteen again and trying to watch porn in the privacy of my room,” Soonyoung despairs, just as Wonwoo wraps his arms around his torso. He plucks at his sleeves, antsy. “Besides, I’ve been horny since _forever_ and I already miss Junhui’s dick. _Come on_ , Wonwoo.”

“You and your omega kink,” says Wonwoo, shaking his head. He releases Soonyoung from his hold and lets him crawl over to Junhui, but not before playfully slapping his ass. “Ask permission first, idiot.”

Soonyoung heaves a sigh but turns to dimple prettily at Jihoon and Junhui. “Jihoon, can I please ride Junhui until he cries?”

“Hmm, let me think,” says Jihoon, tapping a finger to his jaw as Junhui squawks and looks at Wonwoo with incredulous, panicked eyes. “How about no?”

Soonyoung scowls. “Spoilsport,” he grumbles. “Whatever happened to making sure you didn’t mate Junhui before you two were ready?”

“I’m ready now, I think,” says Jihoon, relishing in the way Soonyoung grouses. Junhui gives him a surprised look, but he doesn’t say anything.

“Besides, I have a better idea,” Jihoon continues. Lazily, he nudges Junhui forward until he’s stretched out on his stomach, and he settles between the space of Junhui’s legs, rubbing up against him. “Why don’t you just watch me fuck him until he cries instead?”

"Are you sure _you_ don't have an exhibitionist kink?" Wonwoo snarks.

“Oh my god, Wonwoo,” says Soonyoung. “Shut up and let me watch this.”

“You’re all perverts,” says Wonwoo, letting out an aggrieved sigh as Junhui grinds back against Jihoon’s half-hard dick with a whine, breathing heavily— as if he hadn’t been the one to start all of this. As if he hadn’t benefited from it the most. “ _Perverts_.”

“It’s free porn,” says Soonyoung. “How am I gonna say no to that?”

“At least keep him distracted by kissing him,” says Wonwoo, rolling his eyes. “We don’t want any accidents from happening, do we?”

“What if he ends up biting my tongue?” Soonyoung whines.

“Well, you didn’t hear me complaining everytime I try to keep you quiet,” Wonwoo snarks, but creeps closer to press a soft kiss to Jihoon’s nape. The shell of his ear. He lets out a soft, muted laugh, tickling Jihoon’s skin. “And _you_ called me stupid once.”

Maybe Wonwoo has a point. Maybe there really is something inherently weird about being more than okay putting in a show for other people, especially when the ones involved are your ex-fuck buddies. Maybe they’ll get to a point where this either blows up in their faces or it settles into something stable, something easy to swallow without thinking too deeply about it. Right now, though, Jihoon only has the excuse of hormonal imbalances and Junhui being way too attractive for his own good. Maybe he can even blame Soonyoung for being so annoying, nudging and poking into Jihoon’s business to the point that Jihoon feels like proving a point. Maybe he just wants to show off, some ugly, unsettling part of him hungry for it— the hitch in Junhui’s breathe, the curl of Soonyoung’s lips into a smirk. The hooded, knowing gaze Wonwoo gives him, like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

Maybe.

It’s fine for now, because Junhui doesn’t push him away, doesn’t seem to hate it. He’s pushing back against Jihoon and letting out a garbled litany of his name and _please, please, please_ , and there’s no resistance in him, when Jihoon tugs his clothes off and fingers his rim. He opens up easily, letting Jihoon’s fingers sink into him, tight and wet and hot all over. One finger. Two. Clenches around his digits like he doesn’t want to let him go just yet. His tongue. His cock.

Jihoon can’t get enough— won’t. He just wants to eat him up, even through the distraction of Wonwoo’s mouth, Soonyoung’s tongue. Their hands clutching at his hips, almost bruising as they keep him from pounding into Junhui’s heat too forcefully. Soonyoung’s fingers, tracing around the base of his cock when it’s not buried deep in Junhui, as if he’s testing out its weight, the shape of his knot, forming. Wonwoo’s teeth, heavy and sharp against his shoulder, biting down like he’s trying to mark him up and mate him.

Junhui comes with a shout, spilling all over the pillow Wonwoo’s propped up on his stomach earlier, and Jihoon’s eyes darken with lust as he tries to scoop everything up, smearing it all over Junhui’s skin. His hip. His belly. Feeds him his fingers, and watches Junhui’s lips mouth at his hand.

It’s not just him that’s hungry, he thinks; maybe Junhui’s just as eager to eat him up as Jihoon is for him, everytime.

“You’re still hard,” Junhui points out, weakly, even as he clenches around Jihoon’s cock.

“It’s the rut,” says Jihoon. “The closer it gets, the harder it is to stave off the want.”

“He’s a cockslut when he’s in a rut,” says Wonwoo. “You sure you can handle him alone?”

“I’ve had years handling Soonyoung,” says Junhui, and the reminder of it sends a weird, fluttering feeling in Jihoon’s belly, airy and light before his insides twist and knot up, making him rock forward and fuck back deeper into Junhui’s heat. “Oh— _fuck_ , Jihoonie, did you just get even harder?”

“Mine,” Jihoon mutters, biting down on Wonwoo’s hand covering his mouth. “ _Mine_.”

“No one’s stealing him from you, you dumb alpha,” says Soonyoung, rolling his eyes.

“ _Junhui_.”

“Oh great,” says Soonyoung. “He’s in territorial alpha mode already. Wonwoo, you should take care of it before Jihoon destroys Junhui’s ass.”

“I’m still here and I can hear everything you’re saying,” says Jihoon, trying to keep his voice levelled and his head cool. “I don’t need Wonwoo to take care of it.”

“But what about all those times you were begging for my dick?” Wonwoo says, dryly.

Jihoon thinks about baring his teeth at Wonwoo, but he’s stopped by Soonyoung guiding him out of Junhui, the slick slide of his cock and the friction making them both hiss. “Jihoon, stop being a fucking idiot and just let Wonwoo help you already,” says Soonyoung, imperiously.

“Are you sure about this?” Wonwoo asks.

“Of course,” says Soonyoung, eyes flashing with something unreadable that Jihoon’s not sure if he completely likes. “I’ll have Junhui all to myself while you’re busy.”

“I can feel the love already,” says Wonwoo, rolling his eyes. He’s already scooping Jihoon up and into his lap, though, jerking him off so slowly that it feels like torture as Jihoon bucks up into his hand, moaning. “Good to know I’m just here to let you have your way with your old fling.”

“Love you too, babe,” says Soonyoung, blowing him a kiss.

It’s hard for Jihoon to think of anything much after that, not when Wonwoo’s lips touch his and distracts him from everything else afterwards. It’s a long, heated kiss that’s anything but soft.

That’s how alphas are built, not like omegas that trade soft kisses even when they’re stupid-drunk into each other; it doesn’t bother him too much to watch Soonyoung wrinkling his nose and pressing playful kiss after kiss into Junhui’s sweat-soaked skin, or to feel Wonwoo finger him with Junhui’s slick, getting him wet like an omega instead of the alpha he actually is.

It’s a good thing they’d thrown out that couch, he tells them. They’d never fit in the living room with it still taking up all the space.

“I know,” says Soonyoung, laughing openly at him. “Why’d you think I told Chan about it?”

*

It’s not until much later, when the rest of their roommates have clocked out for the night and slunk off to indulge in deviancy elsewhere, that Junhui opens his mouth and asks about it.

“Did you mean it?” Junhui whispers. “When you said you were ready?”

Head cool in the afterglow and heart easy as he’s snuggled up into Junhui’s chest, Jihoon presses a kiss to Junhui’s clavicle, feeling his breath hitch.

“I think I’ve been ready for a long, long time now,” says Jihoon. He feels Junhui move to tug him up and press slow, worshipful kisses against his forehead in response. His nose. His lips. His jaw. “I might be ready for something else, too.”

“What do you mean?”

“I just think…” says Jihoon, phrasing his words carefully and measuring it out. He mouths at Junhui’s shoulder, tentatively. “Maybe we don’t have to think about moving out even when we’re mated already.”

Junhui’s quiet, for a bit. When he speaks up, his voice is soft, the way it always is when he’s thinking of something. “Soonyoung can be a handful when he’s stressed.” says Junhui. “Wonwoo sulks a lot when he doesn’t get his way with things.”

“I know,” says Jihoon. “I still think they’re idiots.”

“But they’re our idiots?” Junhui tests out, a different question on his tongue.

“Ours,” Jihoon affirms.

“Fuck,” Junhui breathes out. “This isn’t pretend anymore, is it?”

“No,” says Jihoon. He closes his eyes. “Soonyoung’s gonna be so full of it.”

“Maybe,” Junhui agrees. He squeezes his arms around Jihoon, and the tightness of it makes Jihoon, strangely, breathe easy. “He’s gonna have to stop complaining about kissing you if this is gonna work out.”

“What makes you think I wanna kiss him either?”

“Give it a few more months and he’ll wear you down soon.”

“It’s gotta be Stockholm syndrome.”

“Definitely.” Junhui chuckles. “I don’t think Wonwoo’s comfortable enough to let you kiss Soonyoung, too.”

“Even better,” says Jihoon. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there, anyway.”

“ _If_ we get there,” Junhui corrects him. He taps a finger against Jihoon’s nose, like he’s reprimanding a stubborn cat. “They could always say no.”

“How could they say no to your face?”

“You’re just biased,” says Junhui. “Keep talking like that and my ego will inflate even more.”

“It’s a very convincing selling point,” says Jihoon. “Ten out of ten, would bang.”

“I’m not used to you being the optimistic one out of the two of us, you know,” says Junhui. He lifts Jihoon’s wrist to his mouth, kissing the skin mapping out his veins lightly. “It’s the hormones talking, isn’t it?”

“It must be,” says Jihoon. “How’d we ever get anywhere otherwise?”

“I dunno,” says Junhui. He drums his fingers against Jihoon’s chest, right above where he thinks his heart is, and smiles. “I just think the heart wants what it wants.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we've come to the end. thank you to everyone who's subscribed and left comments or kudos for this. and thank you, most of all, to luna-- without you, this story would never have gotten written ♥

**Author's Note:**

> I REGRET NOTHING!!!!!!!!!!


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